Pride Prejudice and Prodigy
by GoGG
Summary: When tragedy brings the delightful Darlingtons to Longbourn, Elizabeth forges a deep friendship with the ill-fated daughter, Julia; and finds herself fascinated by James, in whom Darcy is alarmed to discover a worthy competitor for Elizabeth’s heart.
1. Prologue

**Pride Prejudice and Prodigy**_**  
**_

_When tragedy brings the delightful Darlington family to Longbourn, Elizabeth Bennet forges a deep friendship with the ill-fated daughter, Julia; and finds herself fascinated by the enigmatic son, James, in whom Darcy is alarmed to discover a worthy competitor for Elizabeth's heart. The second part of the story extends beyond the time-line of P&P, wherein Georgiana Darcy struggles against the demons of her youth to blossom into a unique heroine._

* * *

This Regency fic is **complete** (Prologue + 19 chapters). I will be posting twice a week.

The Rating is suitable for anyone old enough to read Jane Austen.

I would like to thank my wonderful beta-readers: tJ, Debra Anne, Paulette and Lynne.

* * *

_**Prologue**_

Not many days after Mr Collins' most welcome departure from Longbourn, Elizabeth was reflecting upon the capriciousness of life as she walked towards Meryton one morning with Jane, Kitty, and Lydia. Jane was earnestly engaged in the office of cautioning her two youngest sisters on the need to show greater restraint in the company of the officers, leaving Elizabeth free to pursue her thoughts regarding chance, and how so much in life appeared to depend upon it. These thoughts began with her considering, as she had done often in recent days, the astonishing acceptance of Mr Collins' offer of marriage by her friend Charlotte. _How could a thoughtful, intelligent girl such as Charlotte, agree to spend her life with so absurd a partner?_

Perhaps it was because she could find no satisfactory answer to this perplexing question that her thoughts wandered to the perverse sequence of events which were responsible for her friend's most unfortunate betrothal. To begin with, there was the entail on Mr Bennet's estate, which ensured that it would pass to Mr Collins upon her father's death. It was this which almost certainly had prompted Mr Collins' visit. He was doubtless motivated as much by the surreptitious desire to inspect his future property, as he was by his avowed intention of choosing a wife from among Mr Bennet's daughters. He appeared to believe they were his by right to select from, according to his whim – and to be accepted – as if they too were part of the entail; _the presumptuous buffoon!_ Had it not been for Mr Bingley and her mother's hopes for Jane in that regard, her elder sister would have unquestionably been the object of Mr Collins' attentions. But Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to know that though it would have grieved her excessively to go against her mother's wishes, she would never have accepted Mr Collins. Jane would marry for love – and no woman could love Mr Collins. Thus, she herself became the object of Mr Collins' hopes and illusions.

On the very day Mr Collins had finally come to the point – and been so vigorously rebuffed – Charlotte came to spend the day at Longbourn, and as an act of kindness to her friend, sought to engage Mr Collins' attentions. Was it he, out of wounded pride, who first had the notion of Lord William Lucas' daughter as a suitable wife – one of whom Lady Catherine de Bourgh must surely approve – or did Charlotte deliberately set about encouraging his addresses? Whatever the truth of the matter, one thing was certain: chance had played an extraordinary part in the chain of events that would end with one of the most significant events in her friend Charlotte's life: her marriage to Mr Collins.

Continuing with her theme of chance, Elizabeth directed her thoughts towards a more agreeable subject: her acquaintance with Mr Wickham. It was strange to think that had he not been treated so abominably by Mr Darcy and denied the promised family living, Mr Wickham would now be a clergyman in some distant northern place, and she would never have experienced the pleasure of his delightful manners and company. Elizabeth smiled to herself. _I shall certainly thank chance for that piece of good fortune – and not Mr Darcy!_ Little did Elizabeth know, as she engaged in her musings, but the recent death of a person wholly unknown to her had already set in motion a chain of events which would soon touch her life, and perhaps alter its course irrevocably.


	2. An Unexpected Lady

**Part One**

_**An Unexpected Lady**_

When the Miss Bennets returned from Meryton, they were surprised to learn that their father had been unexpectedly called away. All their agitated mother could tell them was that an express had arrived, and soon afterwards he had hurriedly departed without any explanation. All he had said was that he was unlikely to return before several days. As he was enigmatic by nature, and not disposed to confide much in their mother, Jane and Elizabeth, while surprised at his unexpected journey, and curious to know what it could mean, were not overly anxious. Kitty and Lydia were too much occupied with gossip concerning one of the officers of the militia to be troubled, and Mary was upstairs, engaged in the improvement of her mind, altogether oblivious of her father's sudden departure.

Mrs Bennet passed the absence of her husband speculating to whence he might have gone, fretting over when he should return, and fearing that he would be set upon by highwaymen and murdered. What would become of them all then? The elder Miss Bennets could not help but feel that it was a welcome distraction of their mother's attentions, which had lately been much directed at themselves. For Jane, it was an agreeable respite from her mother's endless speculations as to why Mr Bingley was not yet returned to Netherfield; and Elizabeth was happy to spend a few days free from her mother's angry recriminations regarding her refusal of Mr Collins.

* * *

When Mr Bennet eventually returned in the fading evening light four days later, he looked tired and careworn, and was not inclined to answer any of their questions. He asked for his supper to be sent to the library, where he shut himself away, safe from the curiosity of his wife and daughters.

The following morning, when all were seated at the breakfast table, he lowered his newspaper and addressed his wife thus: "Mrs Bennet, we are to receive two visitors within the week, please have the guest rooms ready for their arrival." He immediately disappeared behind his newspaper once more, as if no further explanation were required.

"My dear Mr Bennet, who are these visitors?" demanded his wife. "This must have something to do with your mysterious journey. Pray tell us what this is all about, sir."

Mr Bennet laid down his paper with a sigh. It was clear that he would have no peace until his good lady's curiosity was satisfied. "You may recall my mentioning on occasion, an intimate acquaintance from my Oxford days, by the name of Lord Darlington."

"I am quite certain I would recall anyone of so elevated a rank had you mentioned him, Mr Bennet; but indeed you did not," said his wife, shaking her head before continuing excitedly. "Are we to receive a visit from Lord Darlington? You said two persons – Lady Darlington must be accompanying him! Oh, what a great honour for us! I shall call Hill immediately and instruct her to use the finest linen in making up the guest rooms."

However, before she could ring for the housekeeper, Mr Bennet said, "Lord Darlington will not be visiting us; he died some weeks ago." This had the immediate effect of quieting his wife and daughters, who looked towards him in silent anticipation. "The purpose of my recent absence was to pay a visit to Lord Darlington's widow, and his son who succeeds his father to the title."

"Then you must have invited Lady Darlington and her son to visit us! Oh, how wonderful for our girls! But pray tell what kind of gentleman is this young Lord Darlington? Is he married?"

"He is not; but if you will allow me—"

"How exciting," cried Mrs Bennet. "How old is he? He must be rich! Is he handsome? Jane, my dear, how fortunate that Mr Bingley remains out of the way in London; the young Lord Darlington may very likely fall in love with you. Imagine what a match _that_ will be! _Lady Jane_, does it not sound delightful? Oh I can hardly wait—"

"The young Lord Darlington is _not_ coming!" interjected an exasperated Mr Bennet. "Perhaps you can spare us the details of the nuptials until I have finished my communication and departed from the room, madam."

"Not coming? Why ever not? Why have you not invited him, Mr Bennet? How could you be so cruel and heartless a father, to pass up so exceptional an opportunity for your daughters?"

"Perhaps, if you would allow me to finish what I have to say, you may decide that you would rather _not_ have the young Lord Darlington for a son."

"Good gracious, why ever not?"

"My friend, the late Lord Darlington, married a few years earlier than myself, and his lady soon afterwards bore him a son and heir; but most unfortunately she did not recover from her confinement. Lord Darlington, not long afterwards, took a second wife, being anxious that his son should not grow up motherless. His new wife was from a noble family, and was herself a widow with a baby daughter. The unexpected and premature death of her first husband occurred before suitable provision for such an eventuality had been made, and she was left with very little to live on—"

"In such circumstances it is hardly surprising that she would accept any offer. But of course you know what they say about second marriages being for comfort, not love, my dear," said Mrs Bennet.

"Indeed I do not, Mrs Bennet – and I would very much appreciate it if you would be so good as to spare me the information." Rising from his chair, he added, "If you will excuse me, I must arrange for the carriage to be despatched immediately to collect Lady Darlington and her daughter. I leave the arrangements for the ladies' accommodation in your care, Mrs Bennet."

"Daughter? But, how many days are they to stay with us, Mr Bennet?"

"I have not the slightest idea."

"But, why ever not, Mr Bennet? And why do you send our drab old carriage for them – it will never do for a great lady and her daughter – she must have several carriages far superior to our poor vehicle at her disposal. Certainly, the young Lord Darlington would not allow his mother and sister to travel abroad without proper conveyance and attendants. It is unthinkable that he would not make a suitable carriage available to bring them to us and to collect them when it is time for their return."

"They will not be returning to Darlington Hall."

"Not return? Whatever do you mean, Mr Bennet?"

Mr Bennet stopped at the door, the astonished faces of his wife and all five daughters turned towards him. He paused for a moment to consider his words. "My recent journey was prompted by an express from the late Lord Darlington's solicitor, entreating me to intercede with the son. As an old acquaintance of his father, and being somewhat known to the son, the solicitor had hoped that I might prevail upon him to reconsider his decision to cast out his stepmother, Lady Darlington, without a penny. Most regrettably, I failed to soften his resolve in the least."

"How shocking!" exclaimed Mrs Bennet. "How could he treat the person who has stood in the place of a mother to him almost all his life so abominably? But why is she penniless? Surely her late husband, Lord Darlington, must have made a will providing for his wife and daughter."

"Indeed he did. According to the solicitor, the late Lord Darlington made a second will soon after remarrying, making ample provision for his new wife, her daughter, and any subsequent children she might bear him. About a year ago, he made a third will, which was even more generous in its provisions for his wife and her children, all of whom were most dear to him; although the son from his first marriage remained the heir and would naturally inherit the title and the estate."

Before Mrs Bennet could interrupt again, he quickly continued. "When Lord Darlington passed away, about a month ago, and his strongbox was opened, the solicitor found only the first will, which, being made prior to the second marriage, left everything to his son. There was no trace of the subsequent wills which had superseded it."

The ladies gasped. "But surely the solicitor is able to testify to the existence of the later wills?" demanded Mrs Bennet.

"Indeed he is. In fact, he retains draft copies of all three wills, but they have no legal standing. It is not unheard of for a man to have more than one will. The latest one takes precedence, but he may, for whatever reason, decide to revert to an earlier plan for the division of his estate, and so destroy a later will."

"But it is unthinkable that Lord Darlington could have done such a thing; to leave his wife and her daughter penniless!" exclaimed Jane.

"It is far more likely," said Elizabeth darkly, "that the son had access to his father's keys, and that he opened the strongbox, inspected the wills, and destroyed the two later ones. Whatever his stepmother and anyone else were to receive would be at his expense."

"Quite so; I am sure you are right, my dear," replied her father. "Although Lord Darlington's death was sudden and unexpected, he lay incapacitated in his bed chamber for several days. The son would have had access to both his father's keys and the strongbox containing the wills during that period. Privately, the solicitor seemed in little doubt as to what had transpired, but there is no legal remedy – nothing can be done."

"I imagine that Lady Darlington must have justly accused him of his crime," said Elizabeth, "and consequently he has cast her out, along with her daughter."

"Indeed not," replied Mr Bennet. "The solicitor made her immediately aware that she had no legal recourse at her disposal; and she knows too well the disposition of her stepson to expect any admission of guilt or concession on his part. No such accusation has been made."

"But then why has he cast them out, papa?" asked Jane.

"That is a question you may wish to ask the ladies yourself. Please excuse me," said Mr Bennet, quickly exiting the room.

There followed a most animated conversation amongst the ladies, conjecturing as to the cause of the young Lord Darlington's actions. What a terrible blackguard he must be, to destroy his father's wills and drive out his stepmother and stepsister, leaving them homeless and destitute. It seemed unthinkable. Or was it perhaps revenge for a lifetime of cruelty at the hands of a wicked stepmother? Such things were not unheard of.

"We should never be hasty in judging others," cautioned Mary. "The scriptures counsel us to judge not our fellow man, lest we ourselves be judged."

"Nonsense!" said her mother. "I shall most certainly get to the bottom of it as soon as they arrive!"

"Mama," entreated Jane, "please consider the state Lady Darlington must be in. She is in mourning, having lost her husband only very recently."

"And she is very likely blameless for the actions of her stepson," added Elizabeth. "I think we must give her the benefit of the doubt until we know the circumstances. Imagine how it must be for her; having just lost her husband, finding herself and her daughter cheated of their inheritance and then thrown upon the charity of strangers. She must be completely without relations if she is forced to come to a strange house. Mother, we must not question them. All we can do is strive to make them comfortable. Once they are at their ease, they may choose to confide in us something of the extraordinary circumstances that have led to this sad state of affairs."

"Yes, mother, Elizabeth is correct," pleaded Jane. "They are both of them in mourning and have suffered grievously. We must not pry into their affairs; it would be very wrong."

* * *

When the two ladies arrived some days later, they were visibly tired and distraught; although they were at pains to express their sincere gratitude for the great kindness of the Bennets in taking them in. Lady Darlington seemed reserved and kept to her room much of the time. On the few occasions that she sat with them in the drawing-room, she seemed intent on absorbing herself in a book; although Elizabeth observed her occasionally staring fixedly at nothing in particular, her mind turned inwards on itself. She must have been a great beauty in her youth; and even in her present state of distress and sorrow there was a calm dignity about her. Whether it was the result of her daughters' counsel, her awe for the lady's title, or simply the respect that their visitor's poised demeanour commanded, Mrs Bennet kept her curiosity in rein.

The daughter, Julia, unlike her mother, sought comfort and distraction in the company of others, particularly Jane and Elizabeth, in whom she found sympathy and goodwill. At first she said very little except to repeatedly thank them and their family for their kindness and generosity. But one morning, a few days after their arrival, she was walking with the two elder Miss Bennets in a small wood not far from the house, when she confided in them that her mother was anxious to find a small cottage.

"You must not think of leaving us so soon," said Elizabeth earnestly. "We are all of us delighted to have you remain with us for as long as you please."

"Yes," agreed Jane. "Both you and your mother are such charming companions, we would miss you terribly."

"You have all been so kind to us – more than we could have imagined or hoped for – and we will be forever grateful to you for taking us in at this most difficult time," replied Julia. "But my mother wishes very much to have her own establishment again, no matter how low it may be. Do either of you perchance know of any suitable small place in the neighbourhood that might be available for rent?"

"But would you not prefer to be situated closer to your own country, amongst your friends and acquaintances?" asked Jane.

"No, that would be most awkward and painful. We were in the first circle of our neighbourhood. How could we bear the ignominy of poverty before those with whom we were once intimate? We have no money, nothing, only a few small items of jewellery from my mother's first marriage, which my stepbrother was unable to claim as his own lawful property."

Jane and Elizabeth were shocked.

"How could any person act so cruelly to another?" asked Elizabeth. "It is beyond imagination; even had you not been members of the same family. I know you were not related by blood, but you and he must have grown up together, your mother was also a mother to him. How could he turn his back so viciously upon his nearest friends? It defies comprehension."

"Because he wished to be even nearer," said Julia with a deep sigh. "Nearer than stepbrother and stepsister."

"You mean he wished to marry you?" asked Jane.

"Yes."

"How could you possibly marry so odious a man? How could any woman love – nay, not love: merely endure – such a hateful person?" demanded Elizabeth

"He was not always so," replied Julia, with a sigh. "There was a time when I did love him – as a brother. I was but a year in age, and Edwin two, when my mother became Lady Darlington. He loved the outdoors; and as children we shared many adventures in the woods around Darlington Hall, and games about the hall when the weather kept us indoors. Edwin was a brave and adventurous child, and so long as he was the author and leader of our little exploits, he was happy to share them with me, and treated me with kindness. In those early years, Edwin and I were quite inseparable.

"When he was ten years old, he was sent off to school, which changed him and brought out an unpleasant side to his nature. When he came home for the holidays, he was no longer interested in our innocent adventures of old. He began to hunt, and delighted in indiscriminate killing: not just game, but robins, thrush, blackbirds, badgers, baby rabbits too small for the pot. He wanted to prove his manliness, I believe, and expected me to admire him for it – but I could not. I could neither share nor condone his cruelty."

"Of course," agreed Jane. "But I have observed that boys sometimes pass through such a phase, and then later they regain their sense of humanity."

"Sadly, that was not the case with my brother, Edwin," said Julia with a sigh. "But that was not the only thing which came between us. With Edwin away at school, I began to spend more time with my younger brother, James."

"Oh, we were not aware that there were other brothers or sisters," said Elizabeth.

"Only James. He was born a year after my mother's marriage to Lord Darlington. Being two years younger than myself, and three years younger than Edwin, we were loath to include him in our little adventures. He was the baby, and Edwin, particularly, seemed bent on excluding him; not that it seemed to bother James in the least. From the earliest age, he was quite self-sufficient, always happy wandering about alone, absorbed in the meadow flowers, or engrossed in some insect he had found by the pond. He drew beautiful pictures which were quite unintelligible to others, and wrote fantastic stories of make-believe people and animals and places. My mother used to say fondly that his head was in the clouds. She sometimes jested that James behaved more like a little girl and I like a boy, always running about, thick as thieves with Edwin.

"But when Edwin commenced school, my mother engaged a governess to teach me. James begged to join my lessons, and embarrassingly, he soon outshone me in every discipline. When my mother later engaged masters to teach us music and art, he completely eclipsed me."

"How could that be?" asked Jane in astonishment. "Your performance yesterday evening on the pianoforte was superb; I have never heard anything so beautiful."

"Yes indeed," agreed Elizabeth, "I felt quite ashamed for my own meagre performance when I heard you play."

"It is very kind of you to say so, but that is very much the way I myself feel before my brother's virtuosity; and not just upon the pianoforte – but at anything he turns his hand to. The regrettable changes in Edwin, which my mother attributed to his school, prompted her to keep James at home, and so we two were educated together; and though I was a diligent student and received much praise from our tutors, I could never equal my brother's accomplishments."

"I think I should have hated such a brother," laughed Elizabeth.

"But I did not. I soon came to treasure him and love him dearly; and it was principally this, I believe, that turned Edwin against me. He is, I am sorry to say, a selfish person, and possesses a very jealous nature. He became so jealous of my affection for our younger brother, that he developed a dislike bordering upon hatred towards him."

"Perhaps his jealousy was on account of your younger brother's abilities?" suggested Jane.

"No, indeed not," replied Julia, shaking her head with a smile. "Edwin deems art, literature, and music unfit pursuits for a gentleman. At that time, he himself was interested only in hunting, blood-sports, and games of chance. Later, after school, he spent his days – or more accurately, his nights – gambling, drinking, and in all manner of dissipation. But while he sneered at his younger brother for his unmanliness, he was nevertheless jealous of how well-loved he was by our mother, myself, and most especially, his father, whose affection was too great to be concealed. It was apparent to all that James was his father's favourite. Over the years, Edwin's jealousy led him to hate his father almost as much as he hated James."

"And your mother and yourself, also?" suggested Elizabeth.

"No, in our case there was jealousy, certainly; and anger at our undisguised affection for his younger brother, but not outright hatred. My mother loved Edwin as her own child; and despite everything that has happened, she loves him still. Sometimes I think she blames herself for not preventing him from turning out as he has; but I cannot see what more she could have done. She wished to remove him from school in order to better supervise him, but he would not hear of it. It is my opinion that the school is not to blame; it is well-respected, and I am acquainted with many fine gentlemen – including my father, Lord Darlington – who have attended there. No, it is his character, I fear, that is to blame: his predisposition to jealousy, hatred, and rage are so marked," she said, shaking her head sadly.

"But then why did he cast you out so cruelly if he does not hate you?" asked Elizabeth.

"Because I would not marry him."

"But you were raised as brother and sister, it is not natural," objected Jane.

"I do not know if it is natural or not. We are not related by blood. I only know that my affection for him, so strong at first when we were children, and in later years strained on account of his behaviour, though still surviving in some measure, was the affection of a sister for a brother. I could never have married him, any more than I could marry my brother, James, whom I love so very dearly. But for Edwin, who can say? It seems his love was of different nature. When it became such, I cannot say, I did not realise it until about a year ago, when he first told me of his wish to make me his wife."

"And you refused him?" asked Jane.

"Yes, of course – repeatedly. Eventually his addresses became so fervent that I confided in my mother, who spoke of it to my father. They both believed that such a marriage was unnatural and wrong, even had it been our mutual wish and had our characters been such that there might have been some hope of happiness. They were aware of the strength of my feelings against the match, and quite certain that it could not lead to happiness for either of us. Lord Darlington categorically forbade Edwin to address me further on the subject, and as long as his father was alive, he acceded to his injunction."

"But he renewed his addresses after his father's passing?" surmised Elizabeth.

"Most forcefully and alarmingly," replied Julia, shaking her head. "I imagine you have heard that my father's will, which contained the most generous provisions for my mother, my brother James, and myself, disappeared along with a previous one, leaving his estate entirely in the hands of Edwin?"

Jane and Elizabeth nodded.

"Shortly after my father's funeral, Edwin presented me with a simple choice: marry him and make my home at Darlington Hall, where my mother might remain to live out her days. James would never again be welcome there, but he would continue to receive the same generous allowance that my father had provided for him to continue his studies for as long as he wished. If I refused, however, we would all three be thrown out and cut off without a penny. Edwin was well aware that we had neither private fortune nor relations to whom we might turn."

"How dreadful," said Elizabeth, "to be presented with such a choice; what a cruel and heartless man he must be."

"And yet, he was moved by love to behave so terribly," mused Jane.

"I do not call that love," said her sister. "Passion, infatuation, the desire to own and possess another, perhaps – but love? Never!"

"Yes, I agree," said Julia. "There was a time, long ago, when he did love me, rightly, as one loves a best friend, as a brother loves a sister; but what it became was not love. As much as I dreaded the consequences of refusing him, I could not accept such an offer."

"Of course you could not!" affirmed Jane, "And surely your mother and brother do not blame you!"

"Indeed, they do not. They were both adamant that I must refuse him. My mother ventured on more than one occasion to make Edwin see how improper it was to use such means to gain my hand. She begged him in the name of his late father; for the sake of what he owed to a mother who loved him and a sister who had been the devoted friend of his childhood, but he was utterly obdurate."

"And my father fared no better," added Elizabeth. "He spoke of his vexation in endeavouring to make Edwin see reason; to properly understand his responsibilities as the head of the house. He addressed him in the most forthright terms, saying that his actions were not those of a gentleman, and warned Edwin that if he made good on his threat, he would be shunned by all decent society and would forever be cast as a villain or a madman. But Edwin refused to listen."

"Yes, I recall how displeased Mr Bennet appeared after his interview with Edwin. In contrast, his manner towards my mother and myself was all compassion and consideration. He insisted on our coming to Longbourn without delay, and staying as long as need be. Your father is the most kind-hearted of men, and we are quite overcome by his kindness."


	3. Cottagers

_**Cottagers**_

Julia and Elizabeth shared a sharpness of mind and an independence of thought that made their frequent conversations mutually delightful. Not many weeks after her arrival at Longbourn, Julia informed Elizabeth that she expected soon to be removed from Longbourn to a small cottage her mother had found not far from Meryton. "I shall be very sad to leave you all – yourself and Jane most especially. I have always wondered how it might be to have a sister; and my short stay amongst you convinces me that I should have liked it very much.

"My dear mama is anxious to be settled in her own place, where she may live the independent life to which she is accustomed; albeit in a far smaller way. She is fully aware of how steep a descent in the world it must represent. My mother is a highly intelligent woman, with an extensive knowledge and wisdom of the world. She has the warmest, most engaging disposition, which I am afraid, has perhaps, of late, been hidden beneath her immediate cares and concerns."

"It must be quite terrible for a lady at her time of life, accustomed as she is to all the privileges and comforts of rank, to suddenly arrive in such circumstances."

"Indeed it is," said Julia with a sigh. "Yet I have not the slightest doubt that she shall endure these hardships with dignity and complaisance. She has a great _joie de vivre_ which cannot long be suppressed, and a deep interest in people and the life around her, even if it is less exalted than that with which she is familiar. Her main source of unhappiness and concern is not for herself, but for my brother, James, and myself."

"Yes, of course, that is understandable. But for your brother, it is perhaps not so serious. A well-educated young man of talent, as you describe him, has many possibilities of making his way in the world; but for a young woman, the loss of fortune must materially damage her prospects in life."

"Yes, indeed it must," reflected Julia, sadly.

There was something in her voice and manner, which led Elizabeth to enquire gently, "Perhaps it has done so already, dear Julia?"

"Unhappily, it has," replied Julia, sighing sadly, as she withdrew into a long silence. Despite her curiosity, Elizabeth was too considerate of her friend to talk further on the matter; but to her surprise, Julia continued speaking on the subject. "I was very much in love – as for the gentleman, I cannot say, but he certainly claimed it. Please do not ask me to reveal his identity; I cannot, for we were never formally engaged." A wistful expression played upon her face as she said, "We would have been married by this time, had it not been for his aunt – then much of our present hardships would have been avoided."

"His aunt did not approve the match?" asked Elizabeth.

"She had hopes of her nephew making a better match."

"He must be from a very exalted family if his aunt found anything wanting in your people."

"My family were in no way an obstacle. He was a younger son, you see, without money, and so obliged to seek a woman of some fortune for a wife."

"But surely Lord Darlington was prepared to settle a generous sum on you?"

"Yes, a very generous sum indeed; and one which was more than sufficient for my suitor – but alas, not his aunt. She threatened him with all manner of consequences if he went against her. He is kind-hearted and considerate, and possessed of a patient disposition. He hoped in time to persuade his aunt to bless our union, but all the while she was engaged in scheming to find a richer prize. What is most strange is that she is exceedingly wealthy herself – his choice of wife was immaterial to her own circumstances. I think it was chiefly a matter of family honour and pride with her; it was almost as if she considered that her nephew's worth, and thus her own as a near relation, was measured by the size of the purse his bride should bring."

"How absurd!" exclaimed Elizabeth, shaking her head.

"In the end, my father agreed to meet her demands – unreasonable though they were; he was the kindest of men. But very soon afterwards, and before the arrangements had been finalised, came his most unexpected death."

"And Edwin, no doubt, refused to honour his father's promise."

"Yes, he immediately wrote to the aunt, stating that if her nephew were to marry me, it would be without a single penny from him. I had hoped there might be provision in my father's will of a sufficient fortune to satisfy the aunt – and there would have been – but you know the whole of the dreadful business of the wills. My suitor, who is almost entirely dependent upon the aunt, had no choice, but to most reluctantly withdraw his addresses. I feel so sad for him."

"And I for you," said Elizabeth, tenderly. "You must be heartbroken."

"I am, of course, very sad, but coming as it has at a time of such tragedy and upheaval: my beloved father's death, followed by the dreadful deeds of my brother, Edwin, and all the consequent hardships, especially for my dear mother, there has been little occasion for me to think about myself, and consider what might have been."

Julia, seeing the look of sadness on her friend's face, continued. "Please do not make yourself unhappy on my account, dear Elizabeth. Perhaps I would not have been as happy as I imagined I might – how can one know how married life will suit one? And now it seems that I shall never know what it is to be a wife."

"That is nonsense, Julia. How can you speak so? You may no longer be possessed of a fortune, but you are an exceedingly handsome young woman – and enormously accomplished. Both your mother and your natural father are descended from the most elevated and respected of families – your marriage prospects may now be limited to men of good fortune – as those of myself and my sisters have always been – but they are surely excellent, none-the-less."

"I sometimes used to think that it might be preferable to have no fortune. One hears so often of young men professing love to naïve young ladies, when really what they seek is their money. At least I shall now be spared that particular fate."

"Do you believe it to have been the case with your erstwhile suitor?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, I imagine that as a younger son, money must always be a consideration, but I do not believe it was his principal inducement. This is also my mother's opinion, and she is far wiser in the ways of the world than I. No, it was his aunt who insisted that a large fortune be brought into the marriage by the bride, not he. I cannot believe him to be a fortune hunter."

"Well, I shall never have to worry about fortune hunters," said Elizabeth, smiling wryly. "Nor Jane, nor any of my sisters; yet I can assure you that our dear mama cherishes great hopes of marrying us all advantageously; and she is, if I may say, most knowledgeable in such matters – so you must not despair of your chances, dear Julia, I refuse to allow it."

* * *

Elizabeth was eager to visit Julia and her mother at the earliest occasion after their departure to the cottage, but Jane suggested they wait a little before paying their first visit. "We must give them time to complete setting up their cottage and making it as comfortable as possible. I imagine they might find some discomfiture at being visited in so humble a situation; perhaps we should allow time for them to become more accustomed to their new life."

"My dear Jane, you are thoughtfulness and consideration itself, and doubtless, quite correct," replied Elizabeth. "In my eagerness to see how they were settled and to be again in their delightful company, I quite overlooked their feelings in the matter."

But Elizabeth's plans of visiting the cottage were soon forestalled by the arrival of their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for Christmas, and all the festivities and excitement of the season – and perhaps, just a little, by the frequent and charming company and attentions of George Wickham, which Elizabeth continued to enjoy, notwithstanding her Aunt Gardiner's caution regarding that gentleman, and his regrettable lack of fortune – a circumstance that Elizabeth could not contemplate without thinking of the villain, Mr Darcy, who was wholly to blame for Mr Wickham's sad misfortunes.

By the time her aunt and uncle had departed Longbourn, taking her sister Jane with them to London, Lady Darlington and Julia had been removed to their cottage several weeks already, and Elizabeth was impatient to see them. It was but a three mile walk from Longbourn, and the ground was lightly covered with snow on the cold winter's morning when Elizabeth set out to visit her friends.

Her first impression, on seeing the cottage, was to wonder how it could be spacious enough to afford comfort for two ladies. She had been prepared for something modest, but not something quite so small and insignificant – although there was a quaint charm to it, and she imagined that in the spring, when the garden was full with flowers, and the wisteria in bloom, it would look a pretty picture.

A young maidservant, whom Elizabeth later discovered to be the sole servant, showed her into the kitchen. Lady Darlington lowered her book, and rose from her chair beside the fire to receive Elizabeth graciously. Her dignified manner seemed utterly incongruous in that plain little cottage kitchen.

"Welcome to my kitchen, breakfast-parlour, dining-parlour, drawing-room, and sitting-room," she said with a smile. "At least it is warm," she added lightly, drawing a chair from the table towards the fire for her guest. "You must be freezing, my dear Elizabeth, after so long a walk on a frosty morning such as this. Pray seat yourself, and make yourself warm by the fire. May I offer you tea?"

Lady Darlington sensed Elizabeth's discomfort and embarrassment in witnessing her living in such lowly circumstances. Having served the tea and resumed her own seat, she attempted to put her guest at her ease. "I am very well, as you can see, and I find myself quite reconciled to my new circumstances, which are not without their compensations. It is most pleasant to be unencumbered and free from the responsibilities attendant upon the mistress of a large establishment, as I have been all my adult life. I no longer need to spend half the morning at my writing desk; or be bothered with the sending out and replying to invitations – why you are my very first visitor, dear Elizabeth."

Elizabeth tried to smile, but she could not immediately feel easy at witnessing this fine lady fallen so low, and endeavoured to turn the conversation by enquiring at the whereabouts of her friend, Julia, whom she had expected to find sitting with her mother.

"Did she not write to you of her plans?" asked Lady Darlington with surprise.

"No," replied Elizabeth. "What plans?"

Lady Darlington sighed, as she reached out and took Elizabeth's hand. "I imagine she wished to hide it from you as long as possible, for she knew that you would be most unhappy when you learned of it."

"Learned what?" asked Elizabeth, becoming uneasy.

"Julia has gone to London, to search for employment."

"Employment? But, how shocking!"

"I did not wish her to go, but… well… as you are well aware, we have almost nothing. The little I realised from the few pieces of jewellery I was able to retain is insufficient to keep us all for very long. Julia is determined to support herself, and to help me in what little way she is able."

"How appalling… a young lady such as Julia, the daughter of a Lord and Lady, seeking employment! What will she do? What occupation can she find, other than as a governess? What a shocking degradation that will be!"

Lady Darlington shook her head sadly and sighed. "Julia hopes to find a position a little more elevated than that of governess. She is, as you know, a most accomplished musician, both on the pianoforte, and with the violin. She is also highly trained and gifted in song. I believe there will be any number of good families who will be happy to have her tutor their daughters in music."

_Oh yes, and to boast to all their acquaintance that they employ the daughter of Lord and Lady Darlington as a music tutor_, thought Elizabeth, imagining how her friend would be eagerly sought by those recently elevated by _new money_, though she refrained from voicing such disagreeable ideas.

"But your ladyship, is there no alternative? Julia can be in no doubt as to the consequences of such a step. It will very soon be known to all the world; and her marriage prospects will be blighted forever!"

Lady Darlington lowered her head sadly, but remained silent. Elizabeth felt ashamed at not keeping her counsel, and turned the conversation in a different direction. "What of your son, James? Why is he not endeavouring to support you and his sister? For a gentleman there are occupations which not only might provide a good income, but to which no shame would be attached."

Lady Darlington sighed and shook her head. "It is not quite that straightforward, my dear. You do not know James. He tried very hard to dissuade Julia from her intended course. Indeed, he offered to go as a music tutor or an art master himself, but Julia would not have it."

"But why need he go as a tutor or a master? That would be equally demeaning for a gentleman as it would for a lady."

"I suppose you are thinking of a profession such as the church; or an officer in the militia or the navy; or perhaps a career at the law?"

"Yes, exactly," replied Elizabeth. "These are all respectable professions suitable for a gentleman without fortune."

"But not my son," answered Lady Darlington, smiling fondly. "In any case, all of these professions require either a lengthy period of preparation or a substantial sum of money – or both."

Elizabeth was finding the subject of how the Darlingtons were to live, increasingly distressing and embarrassing; and she very soon afterwards took her leave. In the afternoon, she wrote to her sister, Jane, telling her of the unhappy circumstances surrounding their friend Julia.

Jane's reply was all concern and thoughtfulness. She, herself, had heard nothing from Julia, and had received neither card, nor letter, nor visit – although Julia well knew that Jane was in London, staying with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Jane was inclined to believe that Julia wished to avoid contact with her former friends, whom she must now feel she could no longer meet as equals. She wrote: _The circumstances in which Julia finds herself domiciled are probably such that she would be acutely embarrassed to receive a visit from me, and she will therefore feel herself unable to wait upon me in Gracechurch Street_. Not for the first time in her life, Elizabeth found herself questioning the rigid forms that governed society – and found them wanting; and more than that, unjust. Respectability seemed to come down to money, she reflected unhappily. Just a few months ago, Julia was the daughter of a wealthy lord, and far more elevated in society than herself. But because of the actions of a cruel and dishonest brother, she now found herself impoverished, and having to earn her bread like some common person. Elizabeth had not the least intention of cutting her friend, and despite Jane's opinion that they should leave it to Julia to take the initiative in making contact, she wrote to her at the London address her mother had provided.

At length Julia replied; and although she attempted to make light of her situation, and put a cheerful glow on her new life in London, Elizabeth was not persuaded. It was many weeks before she felt herself equal to another visit to Lady Darlington. Elizabeth was so distressed at the Darlingtons' situation, that she felt quite unequal to bringing any cheer by a visit. Were it not for the frequent visits of George Wickham, and that gentleman's charming attentions, February would have been a very dreary month indeed.


	4. An Artful Gentleman

_**An Artful Gentleman**_

On a sunny morning, early in March, Elizabeth finally resolved to pay a second visit to Lady Darlington. One could feel the faintest hint of spring in the air, with early crocuses and marguerites bringing a small but welcome dash of colour to the fields. As she neared the cottage, Elizabeth was surprised to find a young man seated on the side of the lane, upon a three legged stool, engrossed in painting the country scene. Upon hearing her step, he turned his head briefly to glance at Elizabeth, but immediately returned to his task without uttering a single word.

Elizabeth was shocked at this gross lack of civility; and fixing her eyes on the road ahead, determined to pass behind the rude stranger – certainly he was no gentleman – ignoring both him and his painting. However, her curiosity got the better of her, and she could not help but peek over his shoulder; and even worse, find herself admiring what she saw. Though she involuntarily slowed her step, to greater appreciate his work, she resolved to continue walking.

She had barely passed him when, without looking up or pausing from his labours, he addressed her, "Miss Bennet, pray tarry a moment; indulge me please for just a minute or two, while I give this fine old oak tree its due. I shall then be delighted to observe all the required formalities, and to introduce myself in the approved manner."

Elizabeth was quite taken aback to be thus addressed by a stranger… if indeed he was a stranger: for he knew her name. Yet, from the momentary glimpse of his face she had been afforded, he looked like no one to whom she could recall having been introduced; and his voice, too, was unfamiliar. Elizabeth was greatly confused. Had her curiosity about him not been so greatly aroused, she would have ignored his offhand request and carried on upon her way. But inquisitiveness got the better of her, so she stopped; and much as she sought to find fault with his painting, she could not help but greatly admire it.

Eventually the artist laid down his brush, wiped his hands on a cloth before rising to his feet. He removed his oversized floppy artist's hat with an extravagant gesture, and bowing low with a broad smile, addressed her, "James Darlington at your service, Miss Bennet. I am very happy to make your acquaintance."

Elizabeth curtseyed politely and smiled; unsure whether he was being sincere or mocking her. While she struggled to decide how to reply, he spoke with sudden enthusiasm, "Ah, what extraordinary providence it is that you should arrive at this very moment, Miss Bennet, just as I was lamenting the inauspicious time of year I had chosen for painting a country landscape. Look how dull and colourless my painting is," he said, waving dismissively at his work.

"On the contrary, sir. Though I am no great critic of art, I think it quite excellent. You have captured the peaceful nascent spirit of the season most admirably."

"You are too kind, Miss Bennet, but I had wished to create something of beauty and vibrancy; a painting which might lift the spirits and quicken the pulse of the viewer… and most especially, entice a prospective purchaser. What a stroke of luck that you should happen upon me at this very moment," he said eagerly. "For now I see standing before me the very thing that my dreary scene lacks."

"I am sorry, but I do not comprehend your meaning, sir."

"I mean _you_, Miss Bennet! Your radiant beauty is the very spice to give piquancy to my art, and animate this lifeless picture! If you would but stand over there, beneath the splendid oak, I shall have all the delicate colour and warmth; all the vibrant beauty that any artist could desire."

Elizabeth blushed at his compliment. She could not decide whether he was a rake attempting to flatter her, or whether he was simply carried away with enthusiasm for his art. He entreated her with such winning charm that she felt herself unable to refuse his request and placed herself beneath the tree, unsure of what was expected of her.

"Please excuse the liberty," he said, taking her hand and placing it upon the trunk. "And pray turn your head just a little to the right – yes, like that – and fix your gaze upon the church spire yonder. Wonderful, excellent," he said stepping back a few paces, before suddenly stepping forward and gently placing his hand beneath her chin and turning her head a little until he had the desired aspect.

Elizabeth blushed fiercely; she was quite unused to having a gentleman take such liberties. Was he some kind of libertine, taking advantage of her, she wondered; or simply naïve? Perhaps he was amusing himself at her expense, pretending to be unaware of the inappropriateness of his behaviour. Elizabeth experienced such a mixture of emotions concerning the young man who had now resumed his seat in front of the easel, seemingly quite unconscious of his breach of propriety and her consequent confusion.

"How did you know my name, sir?" she asked, forcing herself to get the better of her embarrassment and seize the initiative.

"My mother has been expecting you for some days now, and I can think of no other young lady who might pay her a visit in her present circumstances. And of course, there is your appearance."

"I beg your pardon? My appearance? What do you mean, sir?" asked Elizabeth, filled with curiosity at this strange remark.

"Only that my mother was glowing in her praise of your beauty, Miss Bennet. The moment I set eyes upon you I had not the least doubt of your identity. No neighbourhood could boast two such lovely creatures."

"Are you flattering me, sir for the purpose of having me blush for your painting?" asked Elizabeth archly.

The gentleman smiled. "Certainly, the glow of your cheeks gives a breathtaking lustre to your features, but my compliment was entirely sincere – I am no flatterer, Miss Bennet. An artist rarely comes upon a pair of eyes that sparkle and light up the soul, as do yours… but alas, I fear my talent is not equal to capturing such enchantment on canvas."

Elizabeth was becoming more and more discomforted at his words, and sought to turn the conversation from herself. "Then you are an artist, sir? But if you intend it as a livelihood, I fear it will not be considered suitable for a gentleman."

The young man laughed. "You are an acute observer of respectability, I surmise, Miss Bennet; and of course you are perfectly correct. Until my recent impoverishment, painting was an entirely acceptable pastime; and if on occasion, I chose to sell my work, there was nothing un-gentlemanly in that – because I had no need of the money. But now that I am in need of money, to sell my paintings is considered low and mean, and not at all gentlemanly behaviour. Is it not ironical, Miss Bennet?" he asked with a wry grin.

"No, it is entirely rational and understandable," replied Elizabeth. "A gentleman, by definition, does not need to earn his living. Therefore no significance is attached to his selling anything: be it a painting, a horse, or any other possession. But a man who labours for his living cannot be a gentleman."

"And is to be despised?"

"I said no such thing, sir. I am not the author of the rules of social propriety and what constitutes respectability. I am merely making an observation about those rules. You must know that if you earn your living as an artist, no matter how great your talent, you will cease to be considered a gentleman."

"Then you will be greatly relieved, Miss Bennet, to learn that while my present artistic endeavour is undertaken with the intention of relieving some immediate financial distress, I have not the least idea of making a career of it. For one thing, I lack the necessary talent."

"With that I cannot agree, sir," replied Elizabeth.

"You are either too kind or too unlearned in art to see that my work lacks the excellence of a true master."

"I am no expert on the subject, it is true," replied Elizabeth, "but are there not many skilled artists, who, whilst not arriving at the pinnacle of achievement, may yet produce the kind of pleasing work that one finds gracing many a fine drawing room? I imagine that by far the greater portion of paintings fall into such a category; and that those who produce them, if they do so as a profession, are amply rewarded."

"You are quite correct, Miss Bennet. I am quite resigned to the necessity of earning a living by my abilities and labours; even though, as you rightly point out, I must thereby relinquish all claim to being considered a gentleman. But what I shall never accept, is to waste my life in the pursuit of mediocrity." Despite the passion of his speech, the young man continued diligently at his task.

"But, sir, surely there is no need for you to relinquish your position as a gentleman. There are a number of vocations open to one, such as yourself, which are highly respectable, and would require no such demotion in social rank."

"Such as?" asked, the young man, tersely.

"Certainly, you are as aware as I am of the possibilities," replied Elizabeth softly, sensing the sadness that had come over him as he continued to work silently at his canvas. This should have been enough to silence Elizabeth on the subject, but she was deeply concerned for the wellbeing of her friend Julia, and for Lady Darlington, whose welfare and future prospects must now be wholly dependent upon the young man sitting before her. Julia's hopes of making a good marriage had almost certainly been materially damaged by her employment in London – and the longer she continued with it, the greater would be the damage. In Elizabeth's mind, the blame for that damage lay entirely at the feet of her brother, James. _How shocking_, she thought, _first to be treated so abominably by one brother, and then with such callous indifference by the other_. It was all she could do to stop herself from demanding that he explain how he could allow his own sister to demean herself in such a manner, to wreck all her prospects of happiness.

Though she succeeded in keeping her counsel and resisting the impulse to storm off, she could not leave the subject of his responsibilities alone. Approaching the topic from another avenue, she enquired, "I understand that you have spent the past several years at Cambridge?"

He brightened immediately. "Yes, I was there for seven years – and hoped to remain for at least another seven, if not my whole life. But alas, the recent misfortunes of our family have put an end to all of that."

"You are a scholar then, I take it, and were not merely gone up for the social round?"

"Indeed I am… or at least I was," he said with a sigh. "Ironic, is it not, that while many young men idle away their time at our great universities, a keen scholar, such as myself, is forced to leave before encompassing all the fields of knowledge he hungers to master."

"And what fields are they?" enquired Elizabeth.

"Everything interests me; apart from the law and divinity, but they can hardly be termed knowledge," he said with an impish smile.

Elizabeth was shocked at such irreverence; but recovering herself, asked him what he had studied.

"Mathematics, music, natural science, and literature are all I managed before my studies came to so abrupt a halt," he replied ruefully.

"All?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "That seems a very great deal. And, if I may observe, an unusual combination. Yet none of it, I fear, would offer an acceptable vocation for gentleman. For that you had needed to study divinity or the law," she said with a smile.

"But to engage as a clergyman, or at the law, would require qualities that I do not possess," said he, looking up from his work, and returning her smile.

"Of which qualities do you speak, sir?"

"Hypocrisy for both, conjoined with obsequiousness for the former and callous cynicism and dishonesty for the latter," he replied.

"I am certain that not all clergymen are obsequious hypocrites," she said, suppressing her laughter at the thought of Mr Collins and how well the epithet fitted him.

"No," replied he, "not those amongst them that are simpleminded enough to believe in the fairytales of the church; but alas, I am not such a one."

Elizabeth had never heard such heretical opinions; she hardly believed it possible. "Then you must either seek a commission in the military – or matrimony with a wealthy lady."

"Alas, I was not made to kill my fellow man, either for profit or patriotism; and to marry for money, to profess love, where there is none, save for wealth and possessions, would require almost an equal degree of hypocrisy as would be wanted for the church."

"It would appear, sir, that your disposition denies you every occupation that might be considered suitable for a gentleman. How very unfortunate for you," said Elizabeth with a note of scorn in her voice. For indeed, she had little sympathy with this spoilt young man, who was evidently used to the freedom of pursuing his manifold interests without the least consideration of others. Not that there was any great evil in it, so long as no one depended upon him. But recent events had changed all of that, and yet he seemed unwilling to sacrifice his precious prejudices and preferences in order to shoulder his responsibilities to his mother and sister.

It was fortunate indeed that he had finished his work, for Elizabeth was beginning to feel such strong disapprobation, that she feared she might end up with a scowl on her face in his painting. Walking behind him to see how it had progressed, she was stunned to see a portrait of herself upon his easel.

"You have deceived me, sir! You said that you wished to add me to your landscape, standing beneath the oak; but instead you have made me the subject of an entirely different work."

Carefully, he turned back the previous canvas affixed to his easel, holding it away from the portrait that was still drying. "I am rather quick, and perhaps careless at my art – another reason why I shall never be a great master. As you can see, the landscape is complete, including yourself, giving it that wanted dash of vivacity. I am quite satisfied with it." Then turning it back over, he smiled with pleasure as he regarded the portrait. "Please forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I was unable to pass up the opportunity of painting your beautiful face, so I quickly turned to a new sheet and attempted to commit your enchanting loveliness to canvas. Though I am not a good artist, I must say that the result is most pleasing. You have somehow inspired me to a greater art than I have heretofore attained."

"Nonsense," scoffed Elizabeth at what she took to be idle flattery. "I doubt that the portrait will fetch nearly as much as the landscape."

"Certainly it will not, for I have not the least intention of selling it."

Elizabeth looked at the portrait critically. She could not help but acknowledge to herself that it was a very fine painting, and there was something in the expression, particularly the eyes, which seemed to reflect her heart – her innermost being. She was shocked that this stranger had seemingly penetrated to her very soul, and succeeded in representing it so faithfully. Confusion overcame her, she knew not what to think of him, and abruptly bid him adieu, continuing briskly on her way to the cottage.

* * *

Lady Darlington was very happy to see Elizabeth, and after making her visitor comfortable and offering her refreshments, told her how happy she was that her son James was come to stay with her for a time.

Elizabeth, who had been too embarrassed to speak of him before, was now obliged to mention their meeting a little way along the lane, and how he had entreated her to allow him to paint her.

"Oh, so you have met James already," exclaimed his mother, who was anxious to know how Elizabeth liked him. There could be no mistaking Lady Darlington's extreme fondness for her youngest child, whom clearly, she perceived with all the partiality of a loving and devoted mother. Elizabeth felt extremely awkward as she sorted through all the varied and contradictory reactions and emotions to which her recent encounter with the son had given rise, while endeavouring not to displease her hostess.

"I have never met anyone quite so candid. Some of his ideas border on the heretical," she said uncomfortably. "Perhaps it is the result of being so long at a university. I suspect that such freethinking is more acceptable at such institutions than it is in society at large."

"Perhaps," replied Lady Darlington, "although James has been a _freethinker_, as you call it, from an early age. He has a prodigious love of knowledge and truth; and has always refused to accept anything, simply on the grounds of convention."

"Is he a follower of Bonaparte?" asked Elizabeth with alarm.

"No, not at all," laughed Lady Darlington. "He detests him for the bloodshed he has caused. My son is an original thinker, Elizabeth, and I greatly respect him, and am in awe of his prodigious talents. His late father loved him and was enormously proud of him. He had intended to settle a large sum upon James to make him independent and free to continue his studies, and to devote his life to the pursuit of knowledge. But, alas," she said with a sad sigh, "he was taken from us before it was all settled."

After a long, sad silence, Elizabeth gave way to the thoughts which were uppermost in her mind. "It is a great misfortune indeed, your ladyship, that Mr Darlington is unable to devote his life to study and the pursuit of knowledge; but we are all of us victims of fate and the limitations of our lives in some way or other. Luckily, for a young man of good birth and education, such as your son, those limitations are not so severe. There are possibilities for making one's way in the world – and respectably so."

Lady Darlington smiled indulgently. "Yes, I recall you mentioning it on your previous visit. But now that you have met James, can you not see how unsuited he is to the professions to which you allude? He could never be happy as a clergyman, or an officer of the militia or navy, or at the law."

"But surely, your ladyship, you will concur that we cannot always do that which makes us happy. I cannot believe that Julia can be happy in her present circumstances. Sometimes we must act from necessity. If James is as intelligent and well-informed as you give him credit for, then surely he must see this."

Lady Darlington made no reply, and Elizabeth felt she had said too much, and spoken too heatedly. "Pray, pardon me for speaking out of turn, your ladyship, it was most ill-mannered of me. It is on account of my sadness and concern at Julia's situation; but I should not have spoken so."

"Elizabeth, my dear, no apology is due; there is nothing to forgive. I understand your affection and feelings for my darling Julia, but you must not blame James for her present situation; he is in no way responsible. He did not wish for Julia to go up to London, and argued vigorously against it; offering to go in her stead. But Julia would not have it – she is every bit as independent and determined as her brother, James, and though he is now the effective head of the family, Julia would never give way to him over a matter in which she feels so strongly."

"Why does she feel so strongly that she should be the one to demean herself by employment while James does nothing?"

"James do nothing? Did he not tell you? No I suppose not, for it is all supposed to be a great secret."

Elizabeth looked surprised. "He said nothing on the subject of earning an income other than that he intended to sell the landscape he was painting – and that he has no intention of making a career as an artist; although I must say, I was most impressed with his work, and am convinced that his prospects are excellent if he persists with it."

"I agree, my dear, he might do very well as an artist. He is certainly gifted, but he only paints sporadically, when there are bills to be paid. His true love is literature. A number of his sonnets have been published in the quarterlies, and he has also had several prose pieces appear in various periodicals."

"Goodness, I had not the slightest idea," said Elizabeth. "These are splendid pastimes for a gentleman with literary talents; but I do not imagine they would ever provide much in the way of an income."

"Indeed not, my dear. However, James has a particular project upon which he has been working very hard for the past several months; ever since Edwin made his reprehensible intentions known. I am sworn to secrecy and can tell you no more than that; only that it occupies almost all of his waking hours, and that if he is successful, it should provide a substantial income – more than enough to support us all."

"Whatever can it be?" asked Elizabeth, filled with curiosity.

Lady Darlington deliberately looked away, and Elizabeth was too polite to press her on the subject.

"You will appreciate that I am unable to respond," she said, after a brief silence. "All I can tell you is that it will require several months of intensive work before James can hope to realise anything from it. That is the reason Julia insisted upon going to London and shouldering the burden of providing for our immediate needs. If James had sought employment, it would have greatly impeded his work on the project."

Before ending her visit, Elizabeth gave Lady Darlington a dinner invitation from her mother, taking the liberty of extending it to include her son, whom she felt certain, her mother would wish her to invite, also. Elizabeth's expectation, when her mother had proposed the scheme, was that Lady Darlington would almost certainly decline such an invitation, since it was in no way possible for her to return the hospitality. But to her surprise, Lady Darlington accepted the invitation with pleasure. Elizabeth felt sure that her ready assent was entirely on account of the son – be it maternal pride and the wish to show him off, or simply the desire to afford James a pleasant meal and good company, which most likely had become rare pleasures for them in recent months.

Elizabeth was relieved to find that Lady Darlington's son had packed up his artist's paraphernalia and departed when she stepped out into the lane. As he had not joined them indoors, she had feared another encounter, and felt herself quite unequal to a further tête-à-tête with that gentleman, who had excited such confusion in her. Elizabeth, who prided herself on her ready capacity to judge character, found James Darlington a perplexing enigma. Though he was well-favoured in looks and figure, he made little attempt at pleasing, and seemed almost contemptuous of the accepted social conventions and behaviour. That his mother spoke so warmly of him was natural, and to the credit of her maternal heart, but Elizabeth clearly saw the blind partiality of a mother's love in her generous words. She wondered how he would behave in company when he came to dine, and was most curious to know what her father would make of the enigmatic young man. She could not help finding him fascinating, and struggled to put him out of her mind as she made her way home.


	5. A Difference of Opinion

_**A Difference of Opinion**_

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, Mr Bennet very quickly warmed to James Darlington, who made no attempt to disguise his lack of interest in sport; and politely, but firmly, refused Mr Bennet's offer to come and shoot with him at any time. Mr Bennet seemed not the least bit offended at this refusal, nor indeed, at any of the young man's unorthodox views and opinions. On the contrary, he found them fascinating, and clearly admired his visitor's well-informed mind.

Mrs Bennet, having dismissed Lady Darlington's son as a suitable marriage prospect, on account of his regrettable lack of fortune, nevertheless found fault in his lack of gallantry towards her daughters. While she would doubtless have felt great anxiety had such a noble and handsome young man made efforts to charm them; that he should show such little interest in them was, to her mind, insulting. He seemed to care for nothing except talking nonsense with Mr Bennet on subjects that no one could possibly understand, or find the least interest in.

But in this, Mrs Bennet was mistaken; Elizabeth was listening attentively to the gentlemen. Although she lacked sufficient information to completely follow their discussions on some subjects, on others she was almost as well-informed as her father, having read many of the books in his library. "I am surprised to hear you reject the claims of phrenology, sir," she said at one point, when he was lambasting the discipline. "I wonder how you are able to so confidently reject the science."

"Because it is not a science," replied he. "I have seen not the slightest shred of scientific evidence that character or personality traits can be deduced from the shape of the head."

"Do you likewise dismiss the study of physiognomy, sir?" questioned Elizabeth.

"No, not entirely," replied he, "although it is, perhaps, better described as an art than a science."

Lady Darlington appeared well satisfied with her son's reception, particularly by Mr Bennet; and while she declined further invitations to dine at Longbourn, her son scrupled not in accepting such invitations, and seemed not the least bit concerned at his inability to return the Bennets' hospitality. Although in truth, Mr Bennet, who was the instigator of these frequent invitations, felt himself abundantly rewarded by the excellent information he obtained from his young and learned guest. Elizabeth too, found the young man's conversation fascinating; although in her case, there were other feelings also, which gave rise to confusion and a consequent unease. While she felt certain that neither her parents nor her sisters had the least idea concerning such feelings, as to the young man who was their object, she was by no means certain.

* * *

One day, while walking alone in the garden, Elizabeth encountered Mr Darlington, who was just at that moment arriving to dine at Longbourn. Taking advantage of the privacy afforded by the situation, Elizabeth asked him if he considered himself a proficient in the art of physiognomy.

"Indeed I do – but fear not, your secrets are safe with me, Miss Bennet," he replied with a mischievous smile.

Elizabeth felt herself blush, and to disguise her discomfort, she retorted sharply. "Of course, it is one thing to _believe_ that one knows what another is thinking, and quite another to actually know it. Would you not agree, sir?"

"Quite so, Miss Bennet, but luckily I am in possession of scientific confirmation of my abilities at penetrating the thoughts of others – particularly those who would most wish to hide them."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, archly.

"Your expression, madam, I believe demands that I lay such evidence before you."

Elizabeth laughed. "Indeed it does, sir, but I was not attempting to conceal my wishes – on the contrary, I was very much hoping to convey my desire that you produce the proof of which you speak."

"Very well then, although it obliges me to reveal certain activities which I fear may invite your disapprobation. I have lately had recourse to resort to engaging in games of chance, which are a favourite pastime with many of the officers of the militia presently quartered in Meryton."

"You are a gambler, sir? I am shocked to hear it! How can you, in all good conscience, indulge in so expensive an amusement, when you are dependent upon your poor sister Julia, who is forced to degrade herself for you comfort?" demanded Elizabeth, unable to conceal her severe displeasure.

"On the contrary, I am no gambler, and have never been interested in that particular diversion. However, finding myself in want of immediate funds – and more particularly to _avoid_ dependence upon my sister – I have lately engaged in a game of cards, upon occasion, with the officers."

"But sir, games of chance are just that – _chance!_ You might lose money, just as easily as win it."

"Indeed so, Miss Bennet; and once or twice I have lost. But generally, I win most handsomely; quite enough in fact, to meet the immediate needs of both my mother and myself."

"But this is disgraceful, sir! For a gentleman of wealth to gamble is not generally thought of as improper – unless of course it becomes obsessive, in which case it must be considered a vice. But to gamble to earn one's livelihood is low and mean, indeed. You had done better to work at your art, sir!" she angrily disparaged him.

"Oh, we are back onto that subject; are we, Miss Bennet? My gambling is low and mean – but only because I am poor! But I prefer not to think of it as gambling."

"And what then would you call it, sir?" she demanded frostily

"I like to think of it as the scientific application of mathematics – and physiognomy."

Elizabeth gave a derisive laugh. "I am aware that we live in an age where science flourishes, and seems to encompass ever-expanding areas of knowledge; but I think you grossly overstate the case, sir, to include gambling and games of chance in the compass of science. Where exactly, pray tell, is the science in a game of cards?"

"My success at cards is based purely upon science, madam, conjoined with the gift of an exceptional memory. I am able to recall every card that has been played in a game, and hence deduce those remaining. By applying the principles of mathematical probability, I am thus able to reckon the precise likelihood of any particular outcome at a given moment. Moreover, my extensive study of physiognomy, combined with the ability to remember each player's previous expressions and the hand they then held, assists me in judging, from their present expressions and behaviour, the cards in their hands. Consequently, I win far more often than I lose."

"How shameful; why that is almost like cheating! You are not a respectable young man, sir!"

James Darlington laughed, apparently not the least bit concerned at the accusation. "I shall leave it to you to determine degrees of respectability, Miss Bennet, but I strongly deny the charge of cheating. All who engage in games of chance apply their memory, their ability to discern the hidden intentions of others, and what they surmise to be the likelihood of various outcomes. I simply do it in a more rigorous and scientific manner than most. I am careful not to win too much from those who can ill afford it, although sometimes one comes across an inveterate gambler who insists upon betting beyond his means. There is one officer in particular who is greatly in my debt, and yet insists upon continuing to gamble with me. He becomes angered if I attempt to refuse him. George Wickham is the gentleman's name."

"George Wickham?" asked Elizabeth in surprise.

"Yes, are you acquainted with the gentleman?"

"Indeed I am; and I am very surprised to hear you call him a gambler – in fact I can hardly believe it to be true. I have had the pleasure of being a good deal in that gentleman's company since he joined the militia; and know him to be an honest, upright, and principled gentleman."

James Darlington laughed, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Then there must be two gentlemen of that name in the militia. The one with whom I have the misfortune to be acquainted is a liar and a scoundrel. Nevertheless, I must not be unfair and find him totally lacking. He is a creditable actor, I will grant you; and greatly gifted in the art of deception."

"How dare you speak of him so and tarnish his good name, sir?" exclaimed Elizabeth heatedly, struggling to control her temper. "I do not believe a word you say about him! I have had ample opportunity of conversing with him and of observing his behaviour in a variety of situations; and have found it all to be entirely respectable and honourable. Furthermore, I can speak for all of my acquaintance who have had the pleasure of meeting that gentleman, in stating unequivocally, that they concur with my opinion."

"No doubt they are mostly females – easy prey to his flattering ways and insincere gallantries; so it is perhaps not all that surprising. But I must confess: I believed _you_, Miss Bennet, to be a more acute judge of character than is common. I am exceedingly surprised to discover you so completely taken in and deceived by George Wickham."

"It is _you_, sir, who are deceived! Your unjust and unchristian comments about that gentleman convince me that you are entirely lacking the least ability to fathom the character of others. All your boasts of skill in the art of physiognomy are contradicted by your abject failure to correctly understand Mr Wickham. But perhaps I am unfair to you, Mr Darlington. Perhaps your performance is not always quite this bad? Perhaps there is a reason for your errors in the present case?"

"Such as?" asked the gentleman, sounding more amused than annoyed.

"Jealousy!" replied Elizabeth. "You are clearly envious of Mr Wickham's considerable charm; his great powers of pleasing; and the unanimous popularity he enjoys; all qualities, which I am sorry to say, are entirely lacking in your own person. Please excuse my frankness, sir, but one cannot help but feel provoked at hearing such a fine gentleman maligned, especially one who has suffered such grievous misfortunes."

"Grievous misfortunes? Oh… you are no doubt referring to the stories in circulation of the great iniquities visited upon poor George Wickham by that dastardly rogue, Darcy?"

"Indeed I am, sir! And I beg you not to speak of it in so sarcastic a vein. I do not know what you have heard, but it has been my sad office to hear Mr Wickham confide in great detail, concerning the terrible misfortunes which have been inflicted upon him by Mr Darcy; and I cannot understand how you can speak of it in so flippant and unfeeling a way – _you_ of all people, Mr Darlington, who have similarly suffered from the evil deeds of another."

"Darcy, evil?" laughed James Darlington, "I do not believe it for a moment!"

"Are you acquainted with that gentleman?"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? Certainly. Our families moved in the same circles in London each year, and he was yet at Cambridge when I commenced my studies there."

"Were you friends with him at Cambridge?" asked Elizabeth, her anger temporarily forgotten. Despite her doubts about James Darlington's abilities at judging character, she was most eager to hear his opinion of Mr Darcy.

"No, not friends exactly; I always found him a bit too stately and pompous for my taste. And he, no doubt, found me lacking in those qualities of gentlemanly breeding, which he, himself, strives so hard to evince. However, he is a sensible, cultured, intelligent, well-read fellow – in the classics at least. I always found him a ready foil when I was in need of someone with whom to argue my more unorthodox views."

"Whereas I found him arrogant, conceited, proud, and despising of those he considers beneath him – which is, of course, almost everybody. He is the most disagreeable man I have ever met."

"There may be some truth in what you say, Miss Bennet, although I fear you overstate your case. What I will say of Darcy is that he is as honourable, honest, and trustworthy a man as ever I have known – the very opposite of George Wickham. Now there, madam, is your villain!"

"Mr Darlington, you have things entirely around the wrong way! You call black white and white black. You have lost all credit in my estimation, sir. Not only do I find you totally wanting as a judge of character; but sadly, I must question your mental faculties, your clarity of mind, and most particularly your provoking prejudice."

James Darlington laughed, seemingly amused at Elizabeth's tirade. "Whereas I, Miss Bennet, put your errors down to a blind partiality for George Wickham. Having been taken in by that duplicitous gentleman and his deceitful wiles, you have been persuaded by his plausible lies and fine acting, that Darcy is some kind of villain. Please allow me to give you one piece of advice, Miss Bennet, which will greatly assist your future endeavours in judging character: never allow your personal preferences and prejudices to affect your judgement. And if you become aware of a strong affection – or equally, an aversion – towards some person, always be very careful to allow for it when forming a judgement concerning them."

"How dare you, sir!" said Elizabeth, blushing furiously. "How dare you take the liberty of speaking of my affections? These are _not_ the words of a gentleman!"

James Darlington struggled to contain his laughter. "You seem to be an expert on the subject of gentlemanly behaviour, Miss Bennet; and sadly, I must resign myself to the fact that I fall short in your estimation."

That the gentleman was clearly amused, and felt not the least bit chastised, further infuriated Elizabeth, who made a very slight curtsey, before turning her back on the exasperating James Darlington, and walking briskly towards the house. Fortunately for Elizabeth, this was the last she would see of that provoking gentleman for some time. In a few days, she would be joining Lord William Lucas and Maria in visiting her newly-married friend, Charlotte, in Kent.


	6. Ladies in London

_**Ladies in London**_

Elizabeth had hoped to see Julia Darlington during her brief stay in London on the journey to Hunsford, and was disappointed at Julia's reply to her letter, expressing regret at being unable to attend her on that day. She was therefore pleased when Julia acceded to her further invitation to wait upon her and Jane at Gracechurch Street, where she would spend a day or two upon her return journey.

"She is probably as eager to see us as we are to see her," reflected Jane, "but she will have felt it impossible to visit Gracechurch Street before this time, knowing that she is unable to reciprocate the courtesy. However, as we both depart for Hertfordshire tomorrow, she is now able to visit without that embarrassment."

"I am certain you are right, Jane, but, sometimes I find all these conventions a trifle oppressive and vexing. Do you not?"

Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise. "I see what you mean, Lizzy; it is indeed sad when social etiquette keeps true friends apart; but generally speaking, it does no good to trouble oneself over matters one is powerless to amend, such as social forms and rules of behaviour. It is a little akin to learning a new dance: one does not question the value of its movements, or why one must execute this or that step – one simply attempts to become as proficient as possible in its performance."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. She did not say it, but she clearly saw the influence of James Darlington's freethinking attitudes upon her own. That young man, who provoked such strong and contradictory feelings in her, had been very much in her thoughts of late. Mr Darcy's letter had turned her opinions of both its writer and George Wickham upon their heads, and she could not help but concede that James Darlington had been completely correct in his estimation of them both… while she had been most grievously in error.

All three gentlemen had inhabited her night-time dreams for some weeks; and she could conjecture not their meaning. Each of them, at different times, had taken the part of a villain; and yet on other occasions, the role of a charming, heroic and noble admirer; a lover whose attentions were not in the least unwelcome. Since Mr Darcy's letter, George Wickham's appearances had been solely in the role of a reprobate and rake; and in her waking mind Elizabeth, was now convinced of his black character. But as to the other two gentlemen, she felt nothing but confusion. _What does it matter? Why do they trouble my mind?_ she asked herself repeatedly without finding a satisfactory answer – or at least one to which she was willing to own.

* * *

On the morning that Julia came to wait on Jane and Elizabeth, their Aunt Gardner was out visiting. The three young ladies were very glad to be together in each other's company after so many months, and there was much to be said. Julia was at pains to assure her friends that her situation was not nearly so bad as they feared.

"By a stroke of good fortune, I happened upon an old acquaintance upon first arriving in London. The gentleman was aware of the altered circumstances of my family, and when I made known to him my intention of earning a living as a teacher of music, he assisted me in obtaining an excellent situation instructing his cousin. She is a charming young lady, greatly talented, and a most diligent student. I cannot tell you how delightful it is to be in her company. In order to forward my efforts at finding other pupils, she persuaded her brother to give a small musical soirée at their residence on Grosvenor Square, at which I performed on the pianoforte and violin before several other young ladies and their mothers. In consequence of her great kindness, I am now much occupied in teaching music to a number of young ladies of good family."

"That is wonderful news," said Jane, "I am so happy for you." She wanted to enquire if Julia felt uncomfortable at finding herself in the service of those who previously would have looked upon her as an equal – at least. But she was too kind to ask the question which was likewise uppermost in her sister Elizabeth's mind.

Julia could guess at their thoughts and attempted to ease their disquiet. "I know you must think it a great embarrassment for me, but it is not so. At the soirée, my pupil, as well as her brother, treated me with such honour and respect, that the guests took their lead from them, and I have been accorded great kindness and consideration in the houses of all my pupils."

"But you cannot have been received as you would previously have been?" conjectured Elizabeth.

"No, of course not," replied Julia, "that would not be possible. Nevertheless, I have been treated far better than I had anticipated, particularly by Georgiana Darcy, my first student."

"Georgiana Darcy?" exclaimed Elizabeth, all amazed.

"Yes, are you acquainted with the young lady?" asked Julia.

"No, I have never met her," replied Elizabeth, and then after a pause added quickly, "but I am somewhat acquainted with her brother. He was a guest last year at a residence in the neighbourhood of Longbourn."

"I have had some acquaintance with Mr Darcy over the years, but I had not the least idea that he, too, was in Hertfordshire, and so close by, at the time my mother and I were enjoying your most generous hospitality. Where, pray tell, was Mr Darcy staying?"

Elizabeth who wanted to avoid the subject of Mr Bingley in front of her sister, now felt called upon to mention him. "With a friend of his, a Mr Bingley, who took the lease on Netherfield Park at Michaelmas. But the entire party had returned to London prior to your arrival at Longbourn."

Nothing of Bingley and Jane had ever been mentioned before Julia, and she was entirely unaware of their thwarted romance. "You must be speaking of Charles Bingley. I met that gentleman at Grosvenor Square; a most charming and amiable young man, although somewhat dispirited and sad, I thought. One suspects that he has suffered in love, or is pining after a lady."

Elizabeth glanced quickly sideways at Jane, and saw how uncomfortable she became at Julia's words. Seeking to turn the conversation in a different direction, she asked Julia if the cousin of Georgiana Darcy, whom she had met with upon her arrival in London, was perchance an officer by the name of Colonel Fitzwilliam. To her utter astonishment, Julia's reaction at hearing his name was even more marked than Jane's had been at the mention of Mr Bingley. Julia blushed deeply and turned her face away, quite unable to respond to Elizabeth, or even to look at her.

"Oh!" exclaimed Elizabeth, warmly. "Is he the gentleman who …?"

Jane looked at her sister uncomprehendingly, while Julia continued to hide her face. "Lizzy," her sister demanded, "what is this all about, pray tell?"

Elizabeth knew not how to proceed. In attempting to alleviate Jane's discomfort, she had unwittingly caused even greater discomfiture and confusion to Julia. She gave Jane a quick glance, which conveyed her desire that the subject be dropped; but to her surprise, Julia spoke on it herself.

"When did you meet with him?" she asked, with an equal measure of curiosity and embarrassment.

"As you know, I am just now returned from visiting my dear friend Charlotte Collins, who has lately married the rector at Hunsford. The parsonage is adjacent to the great estate of Rosings Park, the residence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We were frequently invited to dine at Rosings Park, where Colonel Fitzwilliam and his cousin Mr Darcy were paying a visit to their aunt."

"How did you like him?" asked Julia eagerly, her eyes shining brightly.

Elizabeth had not the least doubt that the 'he' was Colonel Fitzwilliam, rather than Mr Darcy. Now she understood the look of sadness on the colonel's face when he said to her one day as they were out walking, 'in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.' In her vanity, she had imagined his heartfelt regret was perhaps on her account, but now she understood that he was thinking of Julia. Colonel Fitzwilliam was her friend's erstwhile lover – and Lady Catherine was the domineering and avaricious aunt who had demanded an extravagant fortune of Lord Darlington, and thus kept the young lovers apart. It all fell into place now. She recalled Colonel Fitzwilliam saying, 'A younger son must be inured to self-denial and dependence.' Clearly the dependence was a reference to his aunt.

Elizabeth felt all the awkwardness of her situation. Julia wanted to hear him praised –and Elizabeth could satisfy her friend creditably, and with complete sincerity. But would it be kind to speak as warmly as she felt on the character of the man who must now be forever denied her? Should she disclose her suspicions of how keenly the colonel felt her loss? No, it was like the knowledge she had lately gained concerning Mr Bingley, which revealed his affections for Jane to have been strong and true, and his failure to return to Hertfordshire, entirely on account of the mischief of his friend, Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth chose her words carefully. "I found him to be a well-bred man, with pleasant conversation and delightful manners." Fearing she had spoken too warmly of him, she went on, "I must confess that I was not so well satisfied with his aunt. She is so full of her own self-importance and superiority; and so certain in all her opinions. I found being in her presence something of a trial."

Jane had by now comprehended the roles played by Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Julia's recent history, and to save her friend the pain of regret, and thoughts of disappointed hopes, she introduced another topic into their conversation. Elizabeth too, was happy to leave Hunsford and Rosings Park behind; for fear that Mr Darcy might again receive mention. She felt herself quite unable to talk without embarrassment on that gentleman, about whom her opinions had recently undergone so material an alteration; and were, as yet, quite unsettled.

The remainder of the visit passed agreeably, and Elizabeth's good humour and enjoyment was only disturbed briefly when the name of James Darlington arose. Julia was aware that Elizabeth had met her beloved younger brother, and was eager to hear her praise him. Although Mr Darcy had largely supplanted James Darlington in her thoughts over recent weeks, when they did turn to Mr Darlington, the confusion of opinions and conflicting emotions were equal to those aroused by the other gentleman. Elizabeth succeeded in satisfying Julia by talking warmly of her brother's great talent as an artist; and of his wonderfully informed mind; and how much her father appreciated both his conversation and his company.

* * *

Julia had entrusted to the Miss Bennets letters for her mother and brother, which they had promised to deliver at the earliest opportunity upon their return to Hertfordshire. Thus, not many days after their return home, the sisters found themselves sitting in Lady Darlington's kitchen, listening to her son's exquisite performance on the violin. It was a lyrical, emotionally-charged piece, and neither of them had ever heard anything so beautiful. Elizabeth felt as if the musician were playing on her very heartstrings. Jane too, could not but help be affected and was quite overcome by the young gentleman, whom she was meeting for the first time.

Jane's heart, however, was quite safe, being entirely fixed upon Charles Bingley; though she would not own it to anyone, not even Elizabeth. "That was the loveliest music I have ever heard, Mr Darlington," she said when he was finished.

"It is a favourite of mine from a little-known Italian composer; although it was intended, I believe, as chamber music – rather than kitchen music," he said with a smile. "Sadly, I must beg you ladies to excuse me, as I have pressing business to attend to."

_His secret project_, thought Elizabeth to herself, recalling her conversation with his mother in this very kitchen several months ago. She was extremely curious to learn more about it, but was nevertheless relieved when the gentleman left the room. She remembered their last conversation – although in truth it was more of the nature of an altercation – regarding the respective characters of Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy. Elizabeth was not looking forward to conceding just how wrong she had been.

* * *

Unluckily for Elizabeth, her father had invited James Darlington to dine with them not many days after her return to Longbourn, and unhappily for her, he came upon her walking alone in the garden on his arrival. "I hope you had a pleasant visit in Kent, Miss Bennet."

"Yes, I did, thank you," she replied uneasily, alarmed at where the conversation might be leading.

"My sister Julia mentions in her letter that you had the pleasure of meeting her former admirer, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Indeed, yes, he is a delightful and charming man. The parsonage where my friend Mrs Collins resides is but a short distance from Rosings Park, the home of Mr Collins's patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh; and we were often invited to dine there."

"You have my greatest sympathy," he said bluntly, "she is the most proud, arrogant, self-centred, and interfering of ladies. The very little time I have been in her company has been more than sufficient, I can assure you."

Elizabeth smiled. "I believe, sir, that we have found someone about whom our opinions are in complete accord. I know what difficulty and pain that lady has caused your family, and more particularly your sister, Julia. Although I previously knew of her disappointed marriage hopes, and the part her suitor's aunt had played in the affair, I was not aware at the time of my visit to Kent that Lady Catherine and her nephew were the persons concerned. It was not until my recent meeting with your sister in London, that I became aware of their identities, and even then, Julia did not volunteer the information. I guessed it from her embarrassment when I uttered the nephew's name."

"It is a very sad affair," he replied, shaking his head and sinking for a time into a silent reverie, before looking up at Elizabeth and saying, "Julia mentioned, I think, that Darcy was also at Rosings… that must have made it doubly unpleasant for you, Miss Bennet. Or did you find, perhaps, that he improved upon acquaintance?"

Elizabeth's fears when he first alluded to her visit to Kent that the conversation would inevitably lead to Mr Darcy had been well-founded. He was the very last person whom she wished to discuss with James Darlington. _Why?_ Certainly there was discomfort on account of their previous conversation about Mr Darcy, because James Darlington had been absolutely correct – and not just about Darcy, but George Wickham also – while she had been entirely mistaken in the matter.

Yet there was something more; something related to the dreams which came to her at night. Even in her waking hours, both Mr Darcy and Mr Darlington were very often in her thoughts. What completely discomposed her was the suspicion that James Darlington was somehow aware of it all – just as in the portrait he painted of her he seemed to penetrate to her very soul. How was it possible? Was it mere fancy? She earnestly hoped it was.

Elizabeth decided that the best way to relieve her discomfort was to take advantage of his question to make a complete breast of the matter. "One hates to admit that one has been mistaken in one's opinions, sir, particularly after speaking so strongly on them. Yes indeed, Mr Darcy did improve upon acquaintance, and I most contritely concede that you were almost entirely correct concerning the character of that gentleman, although I still hold Mr Darcy to be proud and somewhat arrogant."

Elizabeth expected him to make fun of her and ridicule her previous words, but he simply nodded graciously and said, "Then do you also admit, that if Darcy is no villain, then Wickham – who even now, takes every opportunity to put himself forward by blackening Darcy's name – can likewise be no saint?"

"Indeed I do admit it, sir. While in Kent I received information about Mr Wickham and his dealings with Mr Darcy which has persuaded me that Mr Wickham is nothing more than a charming, plausible, liar; and I am acutely embarrassed to have been so roundly deceived by him."

"I cannot blame you, Miss Bennet; the man is a most accomplished performer, and no doubt his fine looks and flattering ways make it especially difficult for a young lady to see beyond his charming façade. I have the advantage of you there, not to mention a good deal of serious and scientific study of human nature."

Elizabeth was most grateful at this kindness and generosity – it was quite unexpected. Nevertheless, she felt embarrassed, and was eager to turn the conversation in another direction. "Your mother mentioned – perhaps she should not have – that you are much occupied in some endeavour of a literary kind, with the hope of remuneration. May I ask you what it is sir?"

"You are most welcome to ask, Miss Bennet – it is a wonderful device, I dare say, to move the conversation to a less vexing subject – but I may be unwilling to satisfy your curiosity in the matter."

Elizabeth blushed, he had done it again – it was almost as if he could read her thoughts – which, if true, would be shocking indeed. "But why, sir, must you be so secretive? Perhaps you are ashamed of your endeavours?"

"No, I am not ashamed – not in the least. But _some persons_ might find them unbefitting a gentleman," he said.

"But sir, in the past, you have shown yourself to be quite unconcerned at the opinions and judgements of others – what pray tell has led to such a change in outlook?"

"Generally speaking, my outlook is quite unchanged… yet there are _those_ _persons_ in whose eyes I do not wish to be found wanting."

If Elizabeth were in any doubt as to his meaning, the colour which came most handsomely to his cheeks left none whatsoever, and caused her heart to beat suddenly harder. She turned her head away to hide the colour that had come to her own face, and to avoid his entreating eyes. This was more than flattery; it was undeniably an indication of preference. She knew not how to respond, and feared that any reply might tell him more of her feelings than she wished him to know.

The gentleman, who in an unguarded moment, had revealed far more than he had intended, quickly recovered himself. "It cannot be very difficult, Miss Bennet, for a person of your sharpness of mind, to guess the nature of my secret endeavour."

Elizabeth was relieved to be delivered from a most awkward moment, and seriously applied her mind to the question. "Well, sir, piecing together the information at hand: it is a literary endeavour, which you hope will provide a good income… and it is one that some may consider lacking in respectability."

"Correct on all counts, although my enterprise does not necessarily lack respectability, in and of itself. As you noted apropos my painting and gaming: the want of respectability is entirely due to my lack of fortune. Had I no need of the money that such an activity provides, I could carry it on blamelessly."

"You are writing a novel, sir," said Elizabeth smiling. "No other kind of literary work – if a novel can be so-called – would earn you very much at all. Now I am curious to know all about it. Is it a romance?"

"My lips are sealed; I will speak not another word on the subject."

"Then I shall have to wait until it is published, and then you shall know my opinion, for I am a great reader; and a critical judge of novels, Mr Darlington."

"You shall not know it is my work, Miss Bennet, for I publish everything, other than my poetry, under a _nom de plume_."

"Have you already had something published other than poetry, sir?"

"I have been an irregular contributor of reviews and other occasional pieces in the _Monthly Review_ for several years – mostly before the plague of poverty was visited upon me, thus surely you must agree, Miss Bennet, that it was the work of a gentleman – since I was not then in want of the remuneration. But now I am, and as you have guessed, I _am_ working on a novel. It may not be the pinnacle of literary achievement, but I find it a thoroughly enjoyable pastime; and it is unquestionably the most rewarding in monetary terms."

"Surely that depends upon how well it is received by the public, and the number of copies sold? Or is it simply a matter of how much the publisher is willing to pay for the manuscript?"

"There are various ways of going about getting one's work published. One may simply sell the manuscript, in which case the remuneration is a question of the opinion of the publisher, rather than the reading public. There are arrangements by which the publisher pays the author a lesser sum for the manuscript, but agrees to pay a small royalty on each copy sold. Or, the author may elect to receive nothing for the manuscript – he may even choose to pay for the printing – and thereby receive a much larger royalty."

"The latter scheme, I imagine, would only benefit the author if his – or her – work were popular," said Elizabeth. "It involves a gamble, but unfortunately you are not in a position to choose it, as it would require a substantial sum of money."

"Yet that is exactly what I have chosen," he replied. Elizabeth looked at him questioningly; so he continued. "In addition to my _magnum opus_, I have lately begun writing an amusing little tale which is being published in serial form. I am paid weekly for each instalment, which will not only make up for the loss of gambling income with the imminent departure of the militia for Brighton, but should provide enough to cover the cost of printing my novel when it is completed."

"If I may say, you seem rather sure of yourself, Mr Darlington. You mother showed me some of your poetry, and I thought it wonderful – your sonnets especially. But not every accomplished poet is a Mrs Radcliff."

"Quite so, Miss Bennet. It is a sad reflection, is it not, that a great work such as 'Ozymandias' will never be as popular as 'The Mysteries of Udolpho' – not that I would dare compare myself to the great poet Shelley – or the talented Mrs Radcliff. Nevertheless, I am encouraged by the reception my serialised story has thus far enjoyed."

"And I suppose you will refuse to divulge the name?"

The gentleman smiled awkwardly and looked away. Elizabeth could see that he had become most uncomfortable, but could not comprehend the reason. Fortunately, for Mr Darlington, at that very moment, Mary came from the house to announce the meal, and all opportunity of continuing the conversation and learning the name of his serialised story was denied her.


	7. A Romance in Four Seasons

_**A Romance in Four Seasons**_

Though summer had arrived, Elizabeth was feeling restless, and not a little bored. The regiment had left Meryton, and consequently there were fewer parties, both at home and abroad; and those there were, lacked the variety and liveliness of old. George Wickham was gone at last – that, at least, was a blessing. With her youngest sister, Lydia, gone to Brighton as the companion of Mrs. Forster, the dinner table and sitting room were far quieter – although the conversation had become considerably more sensible. James Darlington was presently in London on business, and to perform at a soirée with his sister Julia, denying Elizabeth the opportunity of satisfying her curiosity regarding his serialised story.

With so few distractions, Elizabeth found herself day-dreaming more often than was her habit; and James Darlington seemed to occupy her thoughts in equal measure with Fitzwilliam Darcy. _But why, oh why, do I trouble my mind over either gentleman?_ she demanded crossly of herself. The former was too impoverished – and obliged to support a mother and sister. He was consequently in no position to consider marriage – except of course, to a wealthy young lady. The latter gentleman, she had so vehemently refused and unjustly abused, that she was the last woman in world who might expect to receive his addresses. _Then why do I think about them so persistently? Is it simply because these gentlemen have each professed their admiration of me (albeit subtly and perhaps unintentionally on the part of Mr Darlington)? Or could it be that I am attracted to them?_

Were Elizabeth being honest with herself, the answer to the latter conjecture would most certainly have been yes. But a young lady does not wish to admit a preference for a gentleman – even to herself – until she is confident of his heart. James Darlington was such an unusual and enigmatic young man, that despite his sometimes soulful looks and demonstrative words at unguarded moments, Elizabeth could not make up her mind as to his true feelings. Whereas Mr Darcy had been entirely forthright, and readily acknowledged the degree to which his affection for her had overcome every objection: the inferiority of her family, the certain disapprobation of his relatives, the dictates of his will, his reason, and his character. Despite her disdain at his arrogance and pride, Elizabeth could not help but be moved by the strength of such feelings… at least, as they formerly had been, when he paid her his addresses at Hunsford. But now? Surely he must despise her – if he thought of her at all. _So why am I forever cursed by thoughts of him?_ she asked herself in exasperation.

Try as she might, Elizabeth could not prevent these flights of fancy in which she imagined one or other gentleman as her devoted lover. What made these thoughts particularly tantalising, was her inability to decide which of the two gentlemen, whose characters were so entirely different, she preferred.

* * *

On a fine and sunny morning, Elizabeth decided to visit Lady Darlington, in part to get away from home, as her mother was in one of her nervous humours. Jane felt obliged to keep company with their suffering mother, so Elizabeth set out alone. She was not at all in a good temper, having recently read something which had caused her great distress. As she turned into the lane where lay the cottage, Elizabeth was astonished to find James Darlington seated upon his three legged stool, engrossed in a painting. It was the very same spot where she had first met him several months prior. He turned his head upon hearing her step and smiled warmly.

Elizabeth immediately spoke. "I hope you are not going to ask me to stand again beneath that tree, sir, for I am in no mood to oblige you."

"I had intended to make no such request, Miss Bennet. As you can see, you are already painted. Your delightful form and features are so indelibly etched upon my mind, that I had not the slightest difficulty painting you entirely from memory. But you seem vexed, Miss Bennet; I earnestly pray that I have done nothing to offend you."

Elizabeth did not choose to answer his question immediately. She moved silently behind him to survey his work. He had indeed painted her beneath the oak tree, and standing in exactly the same pose that she had taken in his previous work.

After a long silence, during which he worked assiduously to alter the colour and style of her dress to match the one she now wore, he spoke, almost apologetically. "The gentleman who purchased the winter landscape was most enthusiastic, and begged me to paint this same landscape in summer, as a kind of companion piece. He expressed a desire that the same young lady should be standing beneath the oak tree. I hope you do not disapprove, Miss Bennet?"

"Of your painting, no, Mr Darlington, I do not disapprove; it is every bit as fine as your earlier painting of this scene. And as to the liberty you have taken, in again including me in the painting, I am but little troubled. It is nothing compared to a far greater liberty you have taken concerning me!" she said crossly.

Her tone of voice was such that James Darlington put down his brush and palette and turned to face the lady, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm. He looked at her entreatingly, but spoke not a word.

"You seem surprised sir? Perhaps it would help if you were to cast your mind back to a conversation we had some weeks ago at Longbourn, regarding your literary work. You declined at the time to reveal the name of your story which is currently being published in weekly instalments."

"I am very sorry, Miss Bennet, and a little surprised, that my secrecy has so discomposed you," he offered apologetically.

"You said it was a success, sir; so why would you wish to conceal its name from me? Surely you must be happy to have all your acquaintance read it? You may recall my confessing, at this very place, that I was not greatly knowledgeable in art; however, I am an avid reader of the modern novel, including the popular variety published in weekly and monthly instalments, that leave the reader waiting anxiously to learn whether the hero will defeat the villain and claim the hand of the beautiful heroine – even though one knows, of course, that it must end so. My Aunt Gardiner saves the instalments of such serialised stories for my sisters and myself, and sends them to us regularly. While visiting her in London, I began reading a wonderful new story which is become very popular."

"Oh?" he muttered uneasily. "And may I ask the name of it?"

Elizabeth looked intently at the gentleman, who was avoiding her fiery eyes. Ignoring his question, she sternly demanded, "Pray tell me, sir, from whence come the characters and plots in your writing? Are they the creation of your imagination, or are they perhaps _purloined_ from the people and events you encounter in your daily life?"

"All fictional writing, I believe, is inspired to some extent by the experiences of the writer. Each character is constructed – in part at least – from a person or persons he has met, or perhaps read of, or about whom he has received a report. Plots may incorporate real events if the author is lucky enough to lead an interesting life. Of course there will be embellishments and outright invention, as well." The speaker was looking increasingly uncomfortable beneath the intensity of Elizabeth's gaze.

"Have you perhaps come across the sensational new author, Josephine Defoe?" Elizabeth asked accusingly. "She is the author of _A Romance in Four Seasons_, which is presently being serialised in _The Observer_. It is the story I began reading in London. A package, with the most recent chapters, arrived from my Aunt Gardiner only yesterday, and naturally I immediately read them; it is such a fascinating and engrossing tale. I am particularly eager to know how it will end. But perhaps _you_ are able to tell me, Mr Darlington?"

"How did you guess?" he asked softly, hanging his head and continuing to avoid Elizabeth's eyes and conceal his reddened face.

"When she first recommended the story to me, my Aunt Gardiner told me I should find it amusing, especially since the heroine, Evelyn, seemed in some ways quite like myself. And the mother of her friend, Agnes, could almost be my own mother, could she not? And the villainous Edward Smythe is clearly modelled on George Wickham!"

"And my brother Edwin also – he's a bit of a mixture, really. So, how did you like it, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"I must admit that I liked it very much," conceded Elizabeth grudgingly. "Until yesterday, when I realised that the heroine was an almost exact replica of myself – and guessed that Josephine Defoe was, in fact, James Darlington! How _dare _you take my character, sir, without seeking my consent?"

"But did you not like her? Did you not sympathise with her difficulties? Did you not find her entirely delightful and admirable?"

"That is hardly the point, Mr Darlington! Certainly your Evelyn is everything that is charming and beautiful. I particularly recall your description upon her entrance to the ballroom: 'her eyes sparkled and lighted up the soul of every young man who beheld her.' I remember thinking that I had read those words before, but could not recall exactly where; and supposed that the author had stolen them from some poem or novel."

"I would never do such a thing!" protested the gentleman vehemently.

"But now I realise exactly why those words sounded familiar – you spoke them to _me_, as I stood beneath that oak tree there, for your painting! Do you make a habit, sir, of flattering young ladies with extracts from your writing? Or was it the other way around perhaps? Were you testing the effect of the compliment upon me to determine if it would serve you in your story?"

James Darlington could not help but smile, despite the severity of the accusation. "You had it round the right way in your latter surmise, madam – although I most vehemently deny that I was testing a compliment upon you. I was completely overcome by your beauty, and thoroughly captivated by your sparkling eyes."

Elizabeth shook her head doubtfully. "You are again attempting flattery, sir; this time to extricate yourself – having been badly caught out!"

"But this is most unjust, Miss Bennet. What I said to you that day was sincere, unstudied, and the honest response of my senses and feelings upon first meeting you. There was neither the intention to flatter, nor to contrive a situation which might afterwards be used in some literary context. Since you are aware that I have based my heroine Evelyn upon yourself, you can hardly find it surprising that when I imagine her, I think of you. And when I think of you, it is always your lovely eyes that first I see. I can assure you, I did not consciously intend to repeat any words that I have spoken to you on any occasion in my writing. They simply came spontaneously to mind as I pictured Evelyn – because in fact, I was seeing you… and your eyes."

In attempting to justify himself, the gentleman had spoken with an intensity and warmth he would otherwise have restrained; and on which account he was clearly embarrassed. He quickly turned back to his easel and took up his brush and palette. "Please excuse me, Miss Bennet; I must finish my work before my colours dry on me."

Elizabeth, too, was embarrassed. Her questions regarding his feelings were answered by his present embarrassment; by the warmth with which he had just now spoken of her; but most particularly because he admitted to modelling his heroine upon her. It was not difficult to surmise that the author had cast himself in the role of the hero, Jason, who was entirely smitten by Evelyn. But had he, in fact, based Jason upon himself, she wondered. Certainly there were many similarities, but there were also glaring differences. Perhaps their perceptions and judgements were at odds again – on this occasion concerning his own character, rather than that of Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham. In view of their mutual discomfiture, Elizabeth resolved to carry on quickly to the cottage, but she could not help but ask, "And is the character of your hero, Jason, based upon yourself, sir?"

Without turning from his work, he replied, "In part, yes. But I am not so conceited as to believe that my own character resembles that of the classic hero of a romance."

"And do you wish to be like Jason?"

"No madam, not in the least. In creating a hero, the author strives for something that the general readership will find attractive; and that young ladies, particularly, will find desirable. Jason is designed to quicken the hearts of my female readers; I have not that sort of character, and I have no wish of it."

"Yet your heroine, Evelyn, is very close indeed to my own character. So close in fact, that I must confess to finding the acuteness of your penetration rather disquieting."

"Please, do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. It is just that in your case – err, excuse me – I mean in the case of my heroine, Evelyn, I was not disposed to alter my vision to suit the general approbation; and yet, I felt confident that she would earn it just as you – I mean she – was." The gentleman, who had turned about on his stool to face Elizabeth, quickly turned back again, and busied himself with his work.

Elizabeth was also embarrassed, and sought to turn the conversation away from herself. "Did the additions, alterations, and embellishments you made in order to transform your own character, into that of Jason, come from your imagination, or from some other person or persons?"

"Jason is almost an exact amalgam of myself and another gentleman; an acquaintance of mine – and of yours also, Miss Bennet. Can you not guess the identity of that gentleman?"

The answer hit Elizabeth with a jolt, sending a shiver down her spine. It was obviously Mr Darcy. Jason was depicted as the stately, proud, upright and gentlemanly heir to a great estate. _No wonder I like Jason so much_, thought Elizabeth, _he combines the best qualities of the two gentlemen who exercise such a fascination over my mind_.

"I suppose it must be someone like Fitzwilliam Darcy," said Elizabeth lightly, feigning indifference, but in fact feeling acutely embarrassed; and desperate to avoid a discussion on the respective characters of Darcy and James Darlington. That gentleman was far too perceptive for her comfort, and she did not wish to provide him with the opportunity of gaining further insights – particularly regarding her feelings for either Mr Darcy or himself. "In that case, you did not make your hero arrogant enough!" she added, provocatively.

"Oh, so you still think Darcy arrogant, do you? But perhaps that characteristic of my hero's persona was taken from myself, rather than Darcy?" he said, turning his head and smiling.

Elizabeth turned away from him, and before walking briskly off in the direction of his mother's cottage, she fired a parting shot over her shoulder, "No, I meant you did not make Jason arrogant enough to do justice to the disposition of either Mr Darcy _or_ yourself!"

* * *

Elizabeth was hardly surprised that James Darlington did not join his mother and herself in the kitchen; nor, that he was decamped from the lane when she passed by on her way home. As she walked towards Longbourn, she turned over the morning's conversation in her mind. It was clear that the gentleman had been at least as embarrassed as she. He had unintentionally revealed a very strong preference for her; even stronger, perhaps, than hers for him. She smiled to herself and wondered if he was as utterly in love with her as was his Jason was with Evelyn… or as Mr Darcy had professed to be with her, some weeks ago. No young lady could help but feel greatly satisfied in being so deeply desired.

Elizabeth saw James Darlington on only one further occasion before departing with her aunt and uncle into Derbyshire. He had endeavoured to apprehend her alone when he came to dine with them, and seemed most anxious to speak with her. At first, Elizabeth feared that she was about to receive – and would be reluctantly obliged to refuse – her third offer of marriage in barely twice as many months. Regardless of what she felt for the gentleman, it would be impossible for her to accept him, at least in his present circumstances. Perhaps if he succeeded in the literary world, and his mother and sister were well provided for and secure, she might then consider his addresses. But that could take many years, and would certainly require more than one or two successful novels. Despite everything she had said on the subject of the un-gentlemanliness of earning one's living in such a way, she knew it would not stop her from accepting him – if she decided that she loved him, above all others (something of which she was far from certain).

Luckily for Elizabeth she was spared the distress of breaking yet another poor man's heart, for it soon became evident that he was not begging for her hand – only her forgiveness. "Miss Bennet, before you depart from Hertfordshire, I wish to offer you my sincere apologies for taking your character and using it without your sanction for my heroine, Evelyn. It is something that authors do constantly, and it never occurred to me, until our recent conversation, that you might be displeased. I would never do anything that knowingly caused you pain, Miss Bennet; please believe me!"

Despite her relief that it was not a proposal of marriage, and the certainty that she must refuse him, Elizabeth felt a twinge of disappointment; and wondered not a little at her own conceit. She nevertheless put such thoughts aside and answered him kindly. "I do believe you, sir, and you are most heartily forgiven. And I apologise for bracketing you together with Mr Darcy in arrogance. Despite my revision of that gentleman's character, I still hold him to be proud and arrogant. In your case, however, what may at first seem like arrogance or conceit, is perhaps nothing more than a lack of modesty, which given your prodigious talents, you might find some difficulty in evincing."

"It is exactly so, madam. I detest those social conventions which require one to act dishonestly – to pretend that one is something that one is not – be it better or worse than the fact. I believe in the forthright expression of my opinions of people – my own self included. False modesty is falsehood. And if, on occasion, I have exhibited feelings of great admiration, where social propriety decrees that they be hidden beneath banal courtesies… then I hope you will forgive me. Please understand me, Miss Bennet: I am by nature candid and artless; and if I have sometimes spoken too warmly, too ardently or too longingly, it was done without design, and without hope of…" He blushed and looked at his feet as he struggled to get the better of his emotions. "You well know the situation of my family, Miss Bennet, and the constraints it places upon me. Were I free to follow the dictates of my heart… but once again I have said too much," he added, before turning and walking away.

Elizabeth could not help but be deeply touched by his words, and the hopelessness of his situation. But she was sensible enough to know that it was pointless to lament what might have been – but was not. Fortunately, her tour into Derbyshire would commence the following day, and there would be distractions aplenty to occupy her mind and save her having to decide how she might have answered him, had he thrown himself at her feet, and had his circumstances been different. It amused her to consider that had his circumstances, in fact, been different, he would never have come into Hertfordshire in first place, and so she should never have known the gentleman or his family. Her thoughts turned once more to the capriciousness of life, and how much of it seemed to depend upon chance. _What_, she wondered, _does_ _chance hold in next store for me?_


	8. The Power of the Pen and the Pound

_**The Power of the Pen and the Pound**_

Chance, it transpired, held a great deal in store for Elizabeth Bennet. It raised her hopes to dizzying heights, wherein she allowed herself to believe that Mr Darcy, against all expectations, despite all his former objections, and notwithstanding the cruel and unjust manner with which she had dismissed his addresses at Hunsford, still admired and loved her. His greatly altered behaviour at Pemberley and Lambton had served to overturn all her former ideas of him as haughty, arrogant, and cold. She told herself that she did not deserve to receive his addresses a second time, and dared not presume it. And yet, there was something in his countenance when he regarded her: a kind of fervour, and a passion, of which she had heretofore not believed him capable, which whispered that she must prepare herself for the renewal of his addresses – and be ready to give him her answer. She must decide: did she wish to be his wife? Did she care for him enough? Although she had not yet admitted it in her thoughts, her heart murmured, 'yes'. Her imagination was full of Darcy, and dreams of herself as mistress of Pemberley – and its master's heart.

Elizabeth could not but feel herself unaccountably blessed by chance. She marvelled at her good fortune: chance had brought her into Derbyshire (when her Aunt and Uncle's original plan had been to tour the Lakes); it had brought Mr Darcy from London unexpectedly, and then conspired to have him arrive at Pemberley at the very moment she was walking in the grounds.

But then, in a single moment, chance cast her down from the most glorious hopes of a fairytale future to the depths of despair. The wretched news of Lydia's elopement shattered every possible hope of happiness. After her return from Derbyshire, Elizabeth often thought over the havoc that chance had played with her life. These were not consoling thoughts, but a mind as active as hers required occupation. With her father still in London, and her mother barely rational, Elizabeth sought the succour of a sympathetic and intelligent companion; and thus set out to visit Lady Darlington.

Fortuitously, James Darlington was in London on the morning of Elizabeth's visit, for she was not yet mistress of the emotions that had been unleashed in Derbyshire, and felt herself unequal to concealing them from that gentleman's penetrating mind. Lady Darlington had heard the news concerning Lydia, which was by this time common knowledge in the neighbourhood. She embraced Elizabeth warmly, and without making light of the situation, told her she must not despair, and that her life was not over, "Not nearly," she added with a comforting smile. "And Lydia's story is not yet over; we, none of us, know how it shall end. But whatever the end may be, it will very soon fade from people's minds – of that you may be certain. You, Jane, Mary, and Kitty have done nothing wrong, and no fair-minded person will ever think the less of any of you on Lydia's account."

"You are too kind, your ladyship. But regrettably, not everyone has your goodness and compassion; or even wishes to be fair-minded. There are those who will always look for fault in others, who will seize upon a scandal such as this, and gladly blacken the names of my sisters and myself by association." As she spoke, Elizabeth visualised the triumphant, gloating face of Caroline Bingley.

"Such persons cannot be called friends, dear Elizabeth; and those who would listen to their opinions, and concur with them, are not worthy of your concern."

"But, can you not see, your ladyship," responded Elizabeth miserably, "that this affair must materially damage the marriage prospects of my sisters and myself?"

Lady Darlington reached out and took Elizabeth's hand in hers. "No man who truly loved you, my dear, would decide against you on account of what Lydia has done. No young man in love would think of it for two moments."

"Not for himself, perhaps," replied Elizabeth. "But for the honour of his family, he may. And even if he himself were not concerned by it, his nearest relatives well might."

"No, I do not believe it! Just imagine for a moment that my son, James, were such a one – of course, sadly, as you are well aware, he is no position to be contemplating marriage to anyone. I know he would not give a single thought for Lydia's behaviour if his heart were set upon you. And I would be utterly delighted for him to have such a wife – as would any mother who truly loved her son." Elizabeth could not help but blush and smile inwardly as Lady Darlington discounted this imaginary romance. For Elizabeth, at least, it was more than merely hypothetical – and she suspected it likewise was, for the son.

"Oh, Lady Darlington, if only every mother were like you," _and every son like yours_, she thought to herself, for Lady Darlington was right: her son James would never think the lesser of her on account of Lydia. "But it is not so. There are those, who though their judgement of me might not falter on account of this business; and who would treat me with sympathy and compassion; but yet… on account of family honour and pride, would shrink from…" Elizabeth could not go on. She buried her face in her hands as she struggled to hold back her tears.

"My dear, what is this all about? What has happened?" asked Lady Darlington gently, handing Elizabeth a handkerchief, and when she had dried her eyes, she again took Elizabeth's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Elizabeth poured out her heart to Lady Darlington, as she had been unable to do with Jane, for fear of disclosing information about Mr Bingley which might revive hopes and regrets in her sister's heart. Elizabeth revealed everything: Mr Darcy's astonishing proposal of marriage at Hunsford – and the abominable manner in which she had refused him: her harsh accusations, which, in light of his subsequent letter (she concealed only the details concerning Georgiana) proved entirely baseless and unreasonable. Then she spoke of more recent events in Derbyshire, including her final meeting with Mr Darcy at the inn in Lambton, when she was in a state of agitation and distress, having just read Jane's letters concerning Lydia.

"He must have come expressly to pay you his addresses – a second time," said Lady Darlington, thoughtfully. "No other explanation serves for his paying a visit at so early an hour. My dear, you have made quite a conquest! I knew his parents. His mother, Anne, and I were friendly at one time; her disposition was far more pleasing than that of her younger sister Catherine, whom I could never abide. His father was a charming gentleman – and very handsome. There was a season in London – we were both quite young – when I began to believe myself in love with him. Ah, but enough of the reminiscences of an old lady! I am but little acquainted with the present Mr Darcy; I know of him more by reputation, and have heard nothing but good reports as to his character. He is considered to be a very handsome gentleman; is it so?"

"Yes, he is handsome; and his character and temperament are excellent, although it took me many months to acknowledge it."

"And to fall in love with him?"

"Yes, yes! Oh, why was I so foolish to reject his addresses? I could have been Mrs Darcy – before all this business with Lydia had occurred. And quite probably it might never have happened; for Lydia would have remained in Longbourn for my wedding, and never gone to Brighton! Oh why, oh why, was I so stupid and blind? And now it is all too late!"

"My dear, do not give up hope! Mr Darcy must love you a great deal if he was able to overcome all his objections concerning your family – objections which you say caused him to detach his friend, Mr Bingley, from your sister, Jane. There are few men, who having been so ruthlessly refused, would consider offering themselves a second time. Such an uncommon love does not easily die; it is capable of overcoming every obstacle."

* * *

While Elizabeth was thus engaged in taking comfort from Lady Darlington, her son was entering a London bookseller, where, to his great surprise, he spied in a corner, browsing the titles, the very object of their conversation.

"Darcy, old chap," he said as he approached, with hand extended, "what brings you to town at this time of year?"

Darcy looked up from his book and shook the proffered hand. "Darlington, how are you? I have not seen you since Cambridge, I believe."

James Darlington stood silently for some moments, regarding Darcy with his head cocked to one side; his ever-active mind evidently hard at work. Darcy, recalling Darlington's sometimes unwanted perspicacity, began feeling uneasy beneath the younger man's intense gaze, and realising that he had not answered the question, he attempted an offhand reply, "Err… just popped up to take care of a spot of business."

"Really? My sister Julia tells me that Miss Darcy is but lately left London for Derbyshire, together with a large party – including _yourself_. Thus naturally, you will understand my surprise upon encountering you here in London… and my wondering at what pressing reason could have precipitated so sudden a return from Pemberley."

Darcy was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and annoyed at Darlington's impertinence, so he replied curtly, "_Private_ business, Darlington." Darlington continued to look at him appraisingly, so Darcy attempted to deflect the conversation from himself by enquiring, "Are you living in London, these days?"

"No, I too, am here on business – and if I am not very much mistaken, it is very likely the same business as your own."

Darcy was stunned; what could the man be referring to? He recalled Darlington's uncanny knack of disconcerting him, and was becoming quite discomposed. "Look here, Darlington, I was very sorry to hear about your father, and your recent family misfortunes. Your brother Edwin was always an unmitigated bounder; I knew him at Eton; never much liked him, not my cup of tea, really."

"Nor mine," replied Darlington, smiling and nodding in acknowledgement of Darcy's sympathetic sentiments. "But I think I know what – or, should I say, _who_ – _is_ your cup of tea, Darcy."

"Damn it, Darlington, why do you always have to be so exasperatingly cryptic, man; forever talking in riddles? I remember you always took delight in it at Cambridge. I must tell you: I find it exceedingly annoying."

"I will tell you what, Darcy: how about you invite me to your club, which I believe is close by, for tea. Then we can talk about your cup of tea, and your business – which are pretty much the same thing, are they not?"

There was a growing suspicion in Darcy's mind that somehow Darlington had more than just a little inkling of the business which brought him to town. The very last thing he wished was to discuss it in a public place. "All right then," he said, replacing the volume he had been perusing on the shelf, and reticently led the way to his club.

* * *

Darcy chose one of the small private dining rooms, and ordered tea. He then demanded, "Now what is this all about, Darlington?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," replied James Darlington, scrutinising Darcy intently, and noting the deep blush that came immediately to that gentleman's face.

"Err… Miss Elizabeth Bennet of… err, Longbourn? What of her?" asked Darcy, his eyes fixed firmly upon the silver creamer; contriving, but failing, to feign disinterest.

"She is both your cup of tea, and, your reason for being in London."

Darcy attempted to keep his face neutral. "I have not the least idea what you are talking about, Darlington; you are making not the slightest sense."

"Very well, then, let us start with a definition, shall we? 'Cup of tea': a commonplace English expression denoting 'a person, or object well-suited to one's taste.' Your cup of tea, Darcy, is Miss Elizabeth Bennet; you are in love with the lady!"

Darcy was utterly speechless; his face had turned an alarming shade of red. "But… What?" he spluttered. Finally he hissed through gritted teeth. "Has she spoken to you of…" But he was unable to go on. Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been so embarrassed in his entire life.

All the while, James Darlington was observing him with a bemused, calculating expression on his face; but spoke not a word.

It required considerable effort on Darcy's part to recover his composure. Finally, he said coldly, "I recall at Cambridge, that you often refused to play by the rules of gentlemanly conduct, Darlington; and I see that you have not changed in that regard. Gentlemanly behaviour is something which I, at least, always strive to adhere to; and I shall not dignify your breaches of good manners by responding to such outrageous speculations."

Mr Darlington continued to sip his tea, and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cake; seemingly not in the least bit contrite or apologetic.

"I take it, then, that you are acquainted with Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy, his curiosity finally getting the better him – despite having but a moment ago determined not to speak a word on the lady.

"When my mother was obliged to leave Darlington Hall some months ago, she took a cottage in Hertfordshire, not far from Meryton, where I have since joined her. Mr Bennet, who was a lifelong friend of my father, has been exceedingly kind to us all, and frequently extends invitations to dine at Longbourn. I am a great admirer of Miss Bennet, Darcy; she has an exceptionally lively mind, and her conversation is always delightful – as is her countenance. I could write sonnets about her eyes – in fact I have: several."

"It sounds, like she might be _your_ cup of tea, then," said Darcy coldly, now regarding Darlington confrontationally.

"Now look here, Darcy, before you start flinging gloves about and challenging me to a duel, you should know that I have not the least design upon Miss Bennet. I am utterly impoverished, and am currently engaged in establishing myself as a novelist; an endeavour which, if I am successful, will, in the not too distant future, allow me to support my mother and sister in reasonable comfort. I do not imagine it will provide sufficiently for me to marry on, for a good many years."

"So your lack of design upon Miss Bennet is entirely due to you lack of fortune?"

"Yes, very likely, I suppose," replied James Darlington, letting out a sad sigh.

"What do you mean by 'suppose'? Surely you must know your own mind, man?"

"Darcy, my situation is such that marriage is presently an impossibility. I have disciplined myself not to waste time contemplating the unattainable. I have more than enough of the _barely_ attainable to occupy my mind these days."

"I see," said Darcy, with some relief; for James Darlington was the very last man with whom he would wish to compete for Elizabeth Bennet's heart.

"I have never contemplated marriage, Darcy; and I imagined that I never would. I was always far too absorbed in pursuing my studies and research, and other interests, to spare time for such mundane matters as romance and matrimony. Perhaps it was also because I had never met a lady who was capable of capturing my interest – or my heart – until I became acquainted with Miss Bennet. But I am no dreamer, Darcy; if my dear father was still alive, and were I not impoverished, it might all have been different, but…"

"Then you believe that Miss Bennet returns your affections? Has she said as much?" asked Darcy, anxiously.

"She has said no such thing, and I have made no attempt to woo her, for the very reasons I have just given you. But in any case, I am convinced that she has a strong preference for another."

"Who?" demanded Darcy, urgently.

James Darlington ignored the question. "Miss Bennet and I have had several fascinating conversations, some of which featured your name, prominently. Unlike myself, the lady strives to observe the conventions of genteel conversation and propriety; so you may rest assured that she has never alluded to anything remotely related to romance regarding yourself, Darcy. Whatever opinions I hold on that head, and might express, are entirely my own conjecture. On one occasion we had a rather animated conversation vis-à-vis the relative merits and qualities of character of yourself, and a gentleman by the name of George Wickham."

Darcy grunted at the name, but said nothing.

"A rather unsavoury character who is greatly in my debt as a result of losses at the gaming table. He possesses prodigious skill at charming and deceiving young ladies – including Miss Elizabeth Bennet, at one time. She had a very poor opinion of you, Darcy, after your departure from Hertfordshire; and yet, it seemed to me, that she cared a great deal about you – even if it was only to dislike and disparage you. But when she came back from Kent, all her opinions were changed; and she seemed desperate to hide some great secret – something concerning yourself, I surmised. I suppose you asked her to marry you, Darcy?" he said, staring hard into Darcy's eyes, who felt himself unable to turn them away, his face, again, betraying him, by turning red.

"I know you pride yourself on your powers of deduction, and unwanted penetration into the thoughts of others, Darlington, but I cannot imagine how you could have come to such a conclusion. What has Miss Bennet told you?" he demanded angrily.

"She has told me nothing, Darcy; and I must admit that I did not suspect a marriage proposal at the time. For while I was aware of Miss Bennet's fascination for you, I had not the slightest information or clue as to your feelings for her – at least not until I saw you in the bookseller today, when a rather fascinating possibility began to develop in my mind. I watched you very carefully, Darcy, when I first mentioned her name, some minutes ago. Your reaction, and every reaction since, tells me that you have been in love with the lady for some considerable time.

"When I combine that with my close observation of Miss Bennet, I surmise that you paid her your addresses in Kent, and that she refused you – which is hardly surprising, given what were her opinions of you at the time; most especially her misguided belief in the great wickedness you had visited upon her erstwhile favourite: the angelic George Wickham.

"Though I had no suspicion, at the time, of a marriage proposal, it was clear to me that something happened in Kent to change Miss Bennet's opinions, of both yourself and Wickham. All the lady would say on the subject, was that she had received information about Mr Wickham, and his dealings with you. Beyond that, she did not elaborate."

Darcy, likewise, did not wish to elaborate; most especially with regard to Wickham's attempted elopement with his sister, Georgiana. Desperate to turn the conversation away from these most personal and embarrassing subjects, he demanded, "But how does all this conjecture of yours – and I admit to none of it – bear upon my business in town?"

"Nothing more than a simple bit of deduction, really. You have just come from Derbyshire, I believe, where Miss Bennet has been touring with her aunt and uncle. Just before I departed from Hertfordshire I learned that she had returned hastily home, on account of a very sad affair relating to her youngest sister, Miss Lydia Bennet. But you know all about that, do you not?"

There was no escaping Darlington's demanding gaze, Darcy nodded. Darlington smiled with satisfaction. "I thought as much. In fact, I suspected it from the moment I first saw you at the bookseller. You met with Miss Bennet in Derbyshire, and learned of her sister's elopement with Wickham. There is a history of some kind between yourself and Wickham. His side of the story, which was common knowledge in the regiment, was that he was the son of your father's steward, and the favourite of your father, who left him a fine fortune of which you cheated him."

"The first part is true, but not the latter."

"No, of course not, I knew you too well to believe a word of it. And in any case, I had him pegged as a dishonest rogue from the outset, but you probably know more about this charlatan than anyone. You came to London to find him, and force him to marry Miss Lydia Bennet; and so salvage her reputation… and that of her sisters, including Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whom you still hope to persuade to marry you. That, Darcy, is your business in London."

Darcy gave James Darlington an appraising look. He was quite in awe of his mental faculties. "I refuse, point blank, Darlington, to discuss Miss Elizabeth Bennet with you, or to concede any of your wild surmises regarding my feelings and intentions regarding that lady. What I will concede, is that the principal business which brings me to town is to ensure that the marriage between Miss Lydia Bennet and George Wickham takes place. There are reasons other than those you ascribe to me, which induce me to undertake such a task; but it is a _private_ matter, which I have no intention of divulging. Now, if I recall correctly, you said that we have the same business; would you care to elaborate?"

"I came up to London yesterday with exactly the same intention as you, of finding the whereabouts of Wickham and Miss Lydia Bennet, and of persuading him to marry her."

"And have you had any success?"

Darlington shook his head, "No, I have so far been unable to trace them. And you?"

"I have located them and am presently engaged in the exceedingly unpleasant task of haggling over how much I am to bribe the most despicable man of my acquaintance. I must confess that I am not overly optimistic at the present time. He is exceedingly greedy, and entirely unrealistic in his demands. But Darlington, even had you found them, how on earth did you imagine you could persuade Wickham to marry Lydia Bennet? You no longer have money; and if I remember well from Cambridge, you were no swordsman or marksman – surely you cannot have been thinking of challenging Wickham to a duel?"

Darlington laughed. "Of course not, it would have been entirely pointless. He would not have been coerced into marriage by such a challenge – indeed, he would gladly have accepted it. Had he survived, he would not have been forced to marry – and if he had died, he would have been unable to."

"Exactly," replied Darcy. "I came to the same conclusion myself; although I would have taken greater pleasure in fighting the scoundrel. But how then did you believe you might persuade him?"

James Darlington reached into his jacket pocket and removed some folded pages, which he handed to Darcy. "By giving him this to read," he said. "If you would be good enough to pass it on to him, I would be most obliged. You are welcome to read it first, but please do not reveal its source, as I have not the slightest wish of meeting George Wickham with either sword or pistol – my weapon of choice is the pen."

* * *

In the evening following Mr and Mrs Wickham's most welcome departure for Newcastle, Elizabeth was sitting in her room, once again re-reading the letter from her Aunt Gardiner, which revealed the part Mr Darcy had played in bringing about the marriage. Elizabeth could not settle it in her mind. Did he really do it all for her, as her aunt broadly hinted? Had Mr Darcy endured such a distasteful undertaking, of having to prevail upon and bribe a man he abhorred and reviled, for a woman who had spurned and scorned him? It seemed hardly credible. As Elizabeth turned these thoughts over in her mind, her sister, Jane, knocked on her door.

"You remember the sheets of newspaper you passed me, which our Aunt Gardiner enclosed with her letter, Lizzy?"

"Oh yes, I had quite forgotten about it. It was the latest chapter of _A Romance in Four Seasons_, was it not? How did you like it?"

"I liked it very much," answered Jane. "But there is something in it which so reminds me of recent events amongst us… it is quite uncanny."

_Not uncanny at all_, thought Elizabeth. James Darlington had begged her not to reveal his _nom de plume_ of Josephine Defoe, so Jane could little guess why parts of his story might seem somehow familiar.

"I won't spoil it by speaking of it," she said, handing Elizabeth the newspaper pages. "After you have read it, we shall talk. And there is something very curious at the end; please be sure to read it, and tell me what you think."

As soon as Jane had left the room, Elizabeth turned eagerly to the story. The villain, Edward Smythe, whom Elizabeth knew to be modelled partly upon George Wickham and partly upon Edwin Darlington, was become much more like Mr Wickham now – in both character and behaviour. Elizabeth was appalled: James Darlington had him eloping with a naïve young lady, named Susan, in precisely the manner of Wickham and Lydia. All the particulars were identical: he pretended they were bound for Gretna Green to marry; but instead brought her to London where they lived hidden, and in sin; she believing he would very soon marry her, but he, having not the least intention. Like Lydia, Susan was without fortune, and Edward had hopes that with his good looks and charm, he might still be able to woo a wealthy lady, and thus secure himself a life of comfort and ease.

Elizabeth was outraged that James Darlington could have used the tragedy of her poor, foolish sister in such a way. True, no-one reading it, but Elizabeth herself, would know from whence came the particulars of the plot; and in any case, Lydia's circumstances were by now common knowledge throughout the neighbourhood. Yet it showed a heartlessness, and a lack of sensitivity that shocked her. Mr Darlington was certainly aware that _she_ would read it. How did he imagine she might feel at seeing her own sister's terrible misfortune thus exploited?

Elizabeth read on. Finally she reached the end of the chapter, and was surprised to see an addendum from the author:

_D__ear reader, it is my sad duty to reveal that the story of innocent young Susan's elopement with the despicable rake, Edward Smythe, is not the invention of the author; but rather, a true account of an actual history, which has lately occurred. The true villain is, at the time of publication, hidden in some London lodgings with his deceived young victim. Just like Edward, the scoundrel intends to cast her off, callously abandoning her to sink into a life of degradation while he seeks to make his fortune by wooing any wealthy woman he is able to prevail upon, and deceive._

_T__he true name of this despicable villain is known to the author, who delivers unto him this warning: marry the poor unfortunate girl you have so grievously wronged, or your name will be revealed in these very pages at the end of the final chapter, two weeks hence. Not only will you be publicly shamed, but your name shall be known throughout the land, and never again, will any respectable young lady, of wealth or otherwise, be duped by you_.

* * *

And an addendum from the other author: _D__ear reader, please leave a comment…_


	9. Portrait of a Lady

_**Portrait of a Lady**_

James Darlington, whom Elizabeth had not seen since going into Derbyshire, was present at the large dinner party her mother gave in Mr Bingley's honour, in the hope of forwarding a marriage proposal from that gentleman to her eldest daughter, Jane. Elizabeth was eager to speak with Mr Darlington; however, with so many dinner guests, she managed only a polite greeting; and when they were seated at the table, he was placed at the opposite end, beside her father. Her mind, however, was far too occupied with Mr Darcy, and her uncertainty regarding that gentleman's feelings and intentions, to spare further thought to James Darlington.

After the dinner, Mr Darlington approached her in the drawing room, and adroitly steered her away from the table where she was serving coffee, and from which Mr Darcy had very recently retreated after a brief and stilted conversation regarding his sister, Georgiana. Elizabeth contrasted Mr Darcy's awkward manner and hasty retreat upon the approach of a young lady, to the ease with which James Darlington engaged her attention. _Why is Darcy so severe and reserved with me here, when he was so pleasing in Derbyshire?_ she asked herself.

Mr Darlington guided her to a quiet corner of the room where he looked at her questioningly, a playful smile upon his handsome face. She guessed he had observed her recent awkward encounter with Mr Darcy, and she was desperate to avoid the subject.

"At least one Miss Bennet would appear to be enjoying the company this evening," he said, looking over to where her sister, Jane, was experiencing a little difficulty pouring the tea, on account of the keen attentions she was receiving from Mr Bingley.

Elizabeth was well aware of his inference: that she, in contrast, was less than satisfied with the behaviour of Mr Darcy. Apart from being greatly desirous of avoiding that subject, Elizabeth most sincerely wished to thank Mr Darlington concerning Lydia. Since his authorship was a secret and they might easily be overheard, she approached the matter obliquely. "Have you, perchance, read _A Romance in Four Seasons_, Mr Darlington? It has been recently serialised in _The Observer_," she said, with a satirical smile.

"A gentleman does not generally like to admit to being a reader of romances, but I shall confide in you, Miss Bennet, that I am indeed familiar with the story of which you speak; I found it fascinating. I must own to being quite captivated by the beautiful heroine, Evelyn," he added mischievously.

Elizabeth blushed. "The author deserves our sincere thanks, I believe, for the way in which he… err, excuse me, I mean _she_, exposed the infamous deeds of that wicked young man and forced him to behave honourably."

James Darlington smiled. "Yes, I was very pleased to read _her_ note at the end of the final chapter, informing _her_ readers of the satisfactory conclusion. You will be surprised, Miss Bennet, to learn that I am personally acquainted with the author, Miss Josephine Defoe, and am in possession of information concerning the affair that is not generally known."

Elizabeth smiled and sought to hold back her laughter. "Indeed, sir?"

"Yes. It appears that the part Miss Defoe played, was but a minor one; and that the principal actor was a gallant gentleman, who went to a great deal of trouble to discover the whereabouts of the young couple. Apparently, he offered a substantial financial inducement to the _unknown_ scoundrel to marry the aggrieved young lady. I understand that this gentleman also passed on a copy of the crucial chapter to the rogue, at Miss Defoe's behest." As he spoke, he turned his head and looked meaningfully across the room towards Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth blushed and said, "He must be the most noble of men."

"I am somewhat acquainted with the gentleman, myself, and have always thought him so – although I understand that others have sometimes held contrary views. But noble or not, one suspects some personal motive," he said. Elizabeth remained silent as she attempted to avoid his playful gaze. "I wonder… is it possible that this noble gentleman – _whoever_ he may be – is perhaps the admirer of a sister of the young lady who was so grievously wronged – just supposing, for one moment, that she has sisters."

Elizabeth blushed furiously, and looking up, she noticed Mr Darcy staring jealously across the room in their direction. "Excuse me, please, I believe my mother is in need of assistance," she said, moving briskly away from James Darlington.

* * *

About a week after Mrs Bennet's dinner, Darcy was sitting at his writing desk at his London residence, when the butler came to announce a Mr Darlington to see him.

"Please show him into the morning room, Thomas, and have tea served," he said as he put away his unfinished letter. _Damn it_, he thought, _I wonder what brings Darlington to Grosvenor Square? He's so damned unconventional, one never knows what to expect of him next._

"Darlington, good to see you. I must tell you that your threat to expose George Wickham had quite an effect; he agreed almost immediately to accept my terms. Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he enquired stiffly.

"Actually, I am here in the hope of finding my sister, Julia. I was informed at her lodgings that she was staying here as the guest of Miss Darcy; however, your butler informs me that they are both of them gone into Derbyshire."

"Yes, that is correct. My sister, Georgiana, has become excessively fond of Miss Darlington's company, and invited her to accompany her to Pemberley. I am surprised you did not know of it."

"No doubt she wrote of it to my mother; the letter must have arrived after my departure from Hertfordshire. A pity, I brought a painting to show her," he said, indicating a large portfolio leaning against the hat-stand. "I thought she might like to see it, as it is a portrait of a friend of hers: Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he added casually.

"Oh?" said Darcy with a start.

"I am quite proud of it. In fact, I am convinced that it is the finest thing I have ever painted."

Darcy remained silent. He dearly wished to see Miss Bennet's portrait, but could not bring himself to ask. Just at that moment, the tea things were brought in, and while the tea was being poured, Darlington said casually: "I could show it to you… if you are interested in seeing it."

"If it is not too much trouble," said Darcy, attempting to match the other gentleman's nonchalance, but not quite succeeding.

"It needs framing, of course," said Darlington, removing the painting from the portfolio and placing it on a chair which he positioned directly in front of Mr Darcy.

"My goodness," was all Darcy could say, as he feasted his eyes on the most remarkable likeness of Elizabeth Bennet. His mind went back to a conversation with Miss Caroline Bingley the previous year, in which that young lady had sarcastically quipped: 'what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?' He recalled having replied: 'It would not be easy.' And yet Darlington had done it, admirably. More than that, he had captured that playful intelligence which Darcy found so beguiling.

Darcy was so enchanted by the painting that he was completely unaware that be had been staring at it for several minutes without speaking. Finally, he managed to take his eyes from it, and looked up at the other gentleman. "You never cease to amaze me Darlington, I had no idea you were so gifted an artist."

"Sadly, my gift is not as great as this work might lead you to believe. This portrait is several notches above my general standard, and owes much to the exceptional beauty and vivacity of its subject. Miss Elizabeth Bennet possesses the power to bring out the very best in an artist – or any man for that matter. Would you not agree, Darcy?"

Darcy was feeling most uncomfortable. His eyes kept returning to the portrait, which they could hardly avoid, as Darlington had positioned it right before him. Whenever they fell upon it, the painting seemed to come to life in a way which both quickened his pulse and confused his mind. However, he retained enough presence of mind to guess that Darlington was well aware that he would not find his sister at Grosvenor Square, and that his real purpose in coming was in fact to show him the painting, in the hope that he would offer to purchase it.

"I am something of a collector of fine art, Darlington, and would be prepared to pay a handsome sum for such an exceptional work. Name your price."

"As I told Miss Bennet, when I painted her, the portrait is not for sale."

"Was it a solemn promise? Are you obliged not to sell it?"

"No, it was not a promise, Darcy, I am in no way bound by a casual remark; and yet, I wish to keep it."

"You told me once, Darlington, that you had no designs on Miss Elizabeth Bennet; however your attachment to her portrait, when you openly acknowledge your need of money, makes me doubt the veracity of your former denials. To which I might add, the way in which I observed you monopolising Miss Bennet in the drawing room at Longbourn, recently," he added resentfully.

"God, you are a fool, Darcy! You know perfectly well that I have a mother and sister who depend upon me, and will be in no position to contemplate marriage for many years. But you have no such impediment. Why do you wish so desperately to possess this portrait – when you might possess its subject? I do not understand you, Darcy: you carp at my monopolising the young lady; yet you hardly speak two words to her the whole evening. What is it that you are waiting for?"

Darcy remained silent and downcast for some time before saying in a subdued voice, "She seemed very reserved, I am not confident of her feelings."

"Well Darcy, she refused you once, I believe, so perhaps your reticence is hardly surprising. You will simply have to swallow your pride and dignity, and take the chance of a second refusal. Is she not worth the risk?"

Darcy wondered how on earth he had allowed himself to get into so personal a conversation regarding the most private of matters. He was desperate to terminate it.

"Your friend Charles Bingley has no want of courage. Did you know that he recently made an offer of marriage to Miss Jane Bennet and was accepted?"

"Yes, my aunt was here yesterday, having just come from Hertfordshire, and made mention of it," said Darcy as he rose to his feet to indicate that the interview was over.

Darlington rose also, picking up the portrait, but holding in front of himself in such a way, that Darcy could hardly look at him without regarding it.

"Your aunt? Would that perchance be Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" asked Darlington.

"Yes, of Rosings Park. I have no other aunt. Are you acquainted with her?"

"A very little – and far more than I would ever wish to be; she has been the cause of a great deal of trouble and unhappiness in my family. Surely you know of it?"

"Indeed I do not; and I do not wish to hear any member of my family maligned and spoken of is so disrespectful a way."

"I can find nothing to respect in an arrogant and interfering old lady, who would seek to prevent her own nephew from marrying the lady he has set his heart upon, and destroying the happiness on them both – all on account of her own absurd pride!"

"My God, Darlington, how do you know all of this?" demanded Darcy, greatly agitated. "I have not spoken a word to you of my interview yesterday with my aunt… unless Miss Bennet has spoken to you of her recent conversation with Lady Catherine at Longbourn?"

James Darlington laughed heartily, and resumed his seat, with the painting of Elizabeth Bennet placed before him, still facing Darcy, who sank back into his own seat in confusion. "I was not speaking of Miss Bennet and yourself, Darcy. I knew nothing of it until this very moment. I surmise that the interfering old lady has been at it again; this time attempting to keep you and Miss Bennet apart – which is hardly surprising: Miss Bennet's family would hardly be exalted enough to satisfy Lady Catherine's precious pride. No, I was speaking of another of Lady Catherine's nephews: your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and my sister Julia. I am certain I can rely on your discretion, Darcy?"

"Certainly you may."

"Your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has had a marked preference for my sister, Julia, for a very long time; and she for him. Your aunt, though satisfied with my sister's family – which indeed precedes her own in the Baronetage – demanded a preposterous fortune. She appeared to equate its value with the worth of her own family, and more especially, herself. My late father was willing to fix a very generous sum upon my sister; however, it was insufficient to satisfy Lady Catherine."

"How very sad for them both," said Darcy, shaking his head sorrowfully. "I had no idea. Colonel Fitzwilliam has always been most obliging and considerate of our aunt, upon whose largesse he is almost entirely dependent. He would have found great difficulty in disregarding her wishes, particularly in so great a matter."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam was persuaded that his aunt must eventually accept that the fortune my father was prepared to settle upon his daughter was in every way generous. He and my sister, being so entirely certain of the affections of the other, were prepared to wait, believing that Lady Catherine must eventually see reason and give her blessings. But she would not be reasonable, and eventually my father agreed to the outrageous amount she demanded – the happiness of his daughter being his first object.

"Unfortunately, my dear father passed away unexpectedly before the matter was finalised; and my brother Edwin, who inherited everything, refused to provide a penny. Lady Catherine demanded that your cousin give Julia up – even though it was entirely within her power to provide for them herself."

"It is a very sad business," said Darcy, shaking his head.

"But unlike your cousin,_ you_, Darcy, are under no such constraint. You are independent and wealthy; you can marry where you choose, regardless of Lady Catherine's absurd decrees. Or do you consider it more important to satisfy the pride and prejudice of that interfering lady, than to choose your own happiness?"

Darcy sat lost in silent reverie; his eyes fixed upon the portrait of Elizabeth Bennet.

After several minutes, James Darlington became impatient and suddenly arose, breaking the spell. "I will tell you what, Darcy: there is a way you might obtain this portrait of Miss Bennet, after all. It just now occurs to me that the persons with the best claim to it are the lady herself and the gentleman whom she chooses to marry. It shall be my gift to them on their wedding day."

_Author's note: Thus ends part one of Pride Prejudice and Prodigy. The reader may rest assured that the betrothal and marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy preceded precisely in the delightful manner depicted by Jane Austen. The only difference being an additional wedding gift._

_The first chapter of part two will be posted in a few days._

Please leave a comment with your thoughts on part one


	10. Parsonage to Let

**Part Two**

**_Parsonage to Let_**

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married woman in possession of a good man, is certain her friends must be in want of a husband.

Thus it was, that the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, who for some six months had enjoyed the exalted name and happy life of Mrs Elizabeth Darcy of Pemberley, considered the predicament of her dear friend, Julia Darlington, who that very morning, had departed Derbyshire to return to her mother in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, in the full flush of conjugal felicity, was eager for her friend to be equally blessed. James Darlington's first novel had been a great success, and thus Julia was no longer obliged to seek employment as a music teacher. Thankfully, her employment had been of but a short duration, and Elizabeth could see no reason why it should very greatly damage her marriage prospects. Of far greater concern was her friend's disinclination to seriously consider the subject.

Elizabeth had made great efforts during Julia's visit to introduce her to a number of suitable gentlemen, including the new rector of Kympton, Mr Fortnum, a most charming and handsome gentleman from an excellent local family of some wealth. Mr Fortnum's circumstances were comfortable, and while a wife who might bring money into a marriage would be welcome, it was of no necessity. He was a great lover of music, and Elizabeth, having watched him closely, particularly when Julia was at the pianoforte, or violin, or singing, was convinced that he admired her friend greatly. But Julia would not put herself forward, and gave the gentleman not the least encouragement. Elizabeth was forced to conclude, unhappily, that her friend's heart was still too full of Colonel Fitzwilliam to think of any other man.

There was also her sister, Georgiana, to consider; although she was yet young. Elizabeth was presently engaged in a programme of improvement for Miss Darcy. Georgiana excelled in all the usual accomplishments, but she was still very shy in company, especially that of gentlemen. Elizabeth suspected that her lack of confidence derived, in part, from the unhappy events involving George Wickham when she was but fifteen, and that it would take time before she would again put her trust in a gentleman, or believe that she was admired for herself – rather than her considerable fortune. To that end, Elizabeth had decided upon a course of reading and improvement of the mind. If Georgiana believed herself to be well-informed and knowledgeable, she would learn to trust in her own judgements; and moreover, feel confident in expressing her opinions and ideas without fear. A sharpness of mind was one of the qualities Elizabeth admired most in her husband, and she was pleased to discover that his sister was more than his equal in that regard.

One evening, while sitting with her husband in her upstairs apartment, he commented favourably on the improvements he had observed in his sister. Having seen Elizabeth sport frequently with her brother, who appeared to relish his wife's playfulness, Georgiana had become aware of his softer side. She found herself more at ease in his company, and confident in answering his questions regarding her reading and general opinions. "You have worked wonders with, Georgiana," he said gratefully to his wife.

"And yet, I feel there is something more she needs, which I am unable to provide," replied Elizabeth.

"Oh?" asked he. "What is that?"

"Georgiana is still exceedingly shy in company, outside of the immediate family circle. I wonder if growing up without a mother may be partly the cause," conjectured Elizabeth.

"When she was younger, Georgiana had excellent governesses, and then later respectable older companions – although one can sometimes be deceived in their character," he said, frowning as he recalled Mrs Younge and the unfortunate events which had occurred at Ramsgate.

Elizabeth guessed what his thoughts must be. "You must not blame yourself, darling; you did everything you could to benefit and protect Georgiana." Then endeavouring to divert his mind, she steered the conversation to her intended subject. "Although the connection with your sister may be less than immediately apparent, I wished to enquire about your plans for the parsonage at Kympton. I understand that Mr Fortnum does not intend to take up residence there, being already in possession of a grander family property, nearby."

"That is correct, dear, but what has this to do with Georgiana? Were you thinking of her marrying Harold Fortnum?" he asked doubtfully.

Elizabeth shook her head. Though she loved him dearly, she sometimes found him quite obtuse in such matters. How could he have failed to notice that it was Julia, not Georgiana, whom she was forwarding as a match for Mr Fortnum. "No darling, not for a moment," she reassured him.

"I do hope you were not offended at my offering the Kympton living to Fortnum; he is an old acquaintance; the Fortnums and Darcys go back many generations."

"No, of course not; why ever should I mind?" asked Elizabeth, puzzled.

"Well, I am aware that Charlotte Collins was your closet friend before you both were married and, well… I imagined you would like to have her living close by. Err… there will be other gifts, in the future—"

But he stopped on account of the laughter his comments had provoked in his wife.

"My dear Mr Darcy," she said, attempting a straight face. "If you dare offer anything in your gift to that absurd Mr Collins, I shall never speak to you again!"

"I am greatly relieved to hear it," he said.

"As much as I would love to have Charlotte living nearby and frequently dining with us at Pemberley, it would come at far too high a price. In any case, it would be most unkind, and exceedingly unchristian of you to deny Lady Catherine de Bourgh Mr Collins' obsequious grovelling, from which her ladyship derives such satisfaction. And, it would be equally unkind to Mr Collins, I think, to deny him so haughty and arrogant an object before whom to pay his heartfelt obeisance. Why, they seem to have been designed for each other."

When they had finished laughing, Elizabeth said, "But getting back to the parsonage; I suppose you are planning on letting it?"

"Yes, that was my intention; but there is no great urgency. Please do not trouble yourself about it, Elizabeth; my steward will take care of the business."

"It is only that I was thinking it might be possible to find both a tenant, and at the same time, a person who might be able to provide the maternal guidance and counsel which would benefit Georgiana."

Darcy straightened up in his chair and regarding his wife apprehensively, he said warily, "You mean an older woman, err… such as your mother?"

Elizabeth laughed. How could he think, even for a moment that she would wish to visit such a thing upon him – or herself. "Oh, darling, sometimes you are so delightfully naïve. My mother would hardly answer to the purpose – although, my father might approve of the scheme."

Darcy laughed sheepishly. "I would prefer it the other way around, I think: having your father at Kympton and your mother in Hertfordshire. I must say, I have come to appreciate his company a great deal, and always enjoy his unexpected visits. But who, then, are you thinking of for the parsonage, Elizabeth?"

"Lady Darlington," replied Elizabeth. "She is a lovely, warm, wise, lady; and greatly knowledgeable in the ways of the world. Not only would she be perfect for Georgiana, but she would be a great help to me, also. Sometimes, darling, I find myself in situations where I have no idea of the correct way to proceed. Luckily, Reynolds, the housekeeper, has an excellent memory, and is often able to recall how your late mother dealt with a similar circumstance – but not always. Lady Darlington is used to running an establishment of a similar size to Pemberley, and it would be wonderful to have her nearby where I can seek her advice at such times. I have always envied Julia Darlington such a mother. And of course Julia would be living with her. She is now my dearest friend, and Georgiana also loves her. We would all of us be so happy."

"Yes, it seems like a most agreeable arrangement for all concerned. But Lady Darlington may have no wish of giving up her present house in Hertfordshire and coming into Derbyshire."

"Oh, that will not be the slightest problem. Lady Darlington and her daughter are presently living in a tiny cottage that was all they could afford at the time they were forced to leave Darlington Hall. Their circumstances, however, are now much improved. James Darlington has been very successful; his first novel is exceedingly popular and he expects to publish his second very soon."

"So, Lady Darlington wishes to find something a little more comfortable, I take it? But the Kympton parsonage may not suit her. It may be beyond her means – or, perhaps, not grand enough. She may not wish to leave Hertfordshire for Derbyshire. There are many questions for her to consider."

"But darling, I have already discussed the arrangements in detail with Julia, while she was visiting with us. Julia, Georgiana, and I made an outing to Kympton a week ago in my phaeton, and walked about the parsonage. Julia was delighted with it, and immediately wrote her mother, who is likewise enthusiastic at the plan."

"So it is all settled then?" asked Darcy, more in amusement than annoyance. Elizabeth never failed to surprise him.

"Of course not, my dear. It is entirely contingent upon your approval; but I did not wish to trouble you about it until I was certain that Lady Darlington approved of the scheme."

"That was most considerate of you, my dear," said Darcy, smiling. "I shall have my steward write to Mr Darlington to settle the matter. I will instruct him to make the rent very reasonable."

"Thank you, dear," replied Elizabeth. "You are most kind."

"Err… you wouldn't happen to know of Mr Darlington's London address, by any chance?" he asked hesitantly.

"Indeed I do, it is in my writing desk," she replied, rising to fetch it.

Darcy became grave, but said nothing. He wished very much to know if his wife had exchanged letters with Darlington, but could not ask her so impertinent a question.

"Here it is, dear," said Elizabeth, handing him a card. "Julia wrote it down for me, expressly for the purpose of settling the matter of the parsonage."

"Oh, of course," said Darcy, greatly relieved. Though he had experienced even greater joy and happiness with his beloved Elizabeth than he had dared to imagine, the name of James Darlington always caused him just a little uneasiness.

"Elizabeth, my dear, I have a confession I must make to you," he said gravely. "One which I ought to have made many months ago… that I have been wishing to make all this time; but somehow have found myself quite unable to begin."

"Yes, dear?" asked Elizabeth, encouragingly.

Darcy sighed as he attempted to find the right words. "I should really have told you in Hertfordshire, before I asked you to marry me."

"Oh?"

"If you recall, the renewal of my addresses proceeded from your thanking me for my efforts, regarding the marriage of your sister, Lydia."

"Darling, you may rest assured that I remember every single word of that delightful conversation; it is one that I shall cherish all my days," she said, smiling lovingly at him.

"Yes, and I too," said Darcy with feeling, before continuing on a less confident note. "But, there was something that I really should have told you when you thanked me – which I did not."

"Well never mind, dear, you may tell me now what you forgot to tell me then; I am sure it cannot be anything so terrible that I would have refused you a second time."

"No, of course not, it is nothing _terrible_… it is only that it was not a matter of forgetfulness; it was rather a matter of choosing to conceal something. It was, of course, always my intention to tell you of it, but… I was afraid to mention it until I was certain you would have me," he said ashamedly. "And then, when you accepted me, I felt so unutterably happy, that I entirely forgot about it."

"Until now?" she asked.

"No, of course not, it was but a day or two afterwards, but by then it was become more difficult to mention, because I was then obliged to explain my original reticence, and the longer I left it, the more difficult it became."

"I think you had better tell me at once, my dear, before it becomes even more difficult," said Elizabeth becoming more and more curious.

"Right then!" said he, steeling himself for the great revelation. "You may recall telling me, that it was your sister Lydia, who first betrayed my involvement in the marriage, and that you then wrote to your Aunt Gardiner, who revealed to you all she knew."

"Yes dear, it was exactly so."

"Well, there was something important she could not have written of in her letter; something of which she herself was quite ignorant," he said with a sigh.

"Yes dear?" prompted Elizabeth.

"All right then, I shall tell you, and think what you will," he said, desperate to be done with it. "I did not act alone in convincing George Wickham to marry your sister; I received assistance from another quarter, without which it is quite likely the marriage would never have taken place at all." Darcy heaved a sigh of relief at having finally made a clean breast of it; but he could not quite meet his wife's eyes.

"Oh, you must mean James Darlington – or perhaps I should say: _Josephine Defoe?_"

Darcy looked up at her, completely stunned. "What? You know! My god, for how long have you known of it?" he demanded.

"I had guessed that _Josephine Defoe_ was, in fact, James Darlington some time before the whole business with Wickham and my sister, Lydia. I imagine, my dear, that you have not read _A Romance in Four Seasons?_"

"As you well know, Elizabeth, I am no great reader of novels. I merely read the author's note at the end of the chapter, which Mr Darlington handed me to pass on to Wickham."

"I think you should make an exception in the case of the work of _Josephine Defoe_; you will very likely find characters and situations therein which strike you as somewhat familiar. The heroine of _A Romance in Four Seasons_ is a young lady by the name of Evelyn, who is strikingly similar to myself in many ways."

"Then I shall certainly read it," said Darcy, smiling.

"So you see, darling, as soon as I saw the author's note, and knowing as I did _his_ true identity, I was in no doubt as to who was being threatened with exposure. I read the chapter a day or so after receiving my aunt's letter. I always knew that James Darlington was involved in the business."

Darcy laughed and shook his head. "So I have been worrying about it unnecessarily all these months; how silly of me."

"But, why ever did you wish to conceal it from me in the first place?" asked Elizabeth, smiling innocently – although she had long ago answered that very question to her own satisfaction.

"The truth of the matter, dearest Elizabeth, is that I was for a time uncertain of your feelings for James Darlington. I feared he might be a competitor for your heart; which is why I was so awkward around you when I visited Longbourn with Bingley, and then again at the dinner party. You know not the anguish I felt at observing your long and intimate tête-à-tête with Darlington across your parents' drawing room that evening."

Elizabeth laughed. "But we were talking of _you_!"

"Me?" asked Darcy in astonishment.

"Yes, dear. I thanked him for _Josephine Defoe's_ efforts in forwarding my sister's marriage, and he responded by telling me that his part was but a minor one, and that all was owed to another – while looking pointedly in your direction. He even conjectured that the other party might have a _hidden motive_ in the matter."

"Did he, indeed? He's a jolly decent chap, Darlington; amazing perspicacity; although at times, I must admit, it borders on the alarming."

"Yes, indeed," said Elizabeth with a smile, "it can be quite alarming."

Darcy looked at his wife curiously, waiting for her to speak further on the subject of Darlington's abilities to fathom the hearts and minds of others – or indeed anything at all about that gentleman; but she remained silent, and instead rose and sat herself beside him on the couch. "You deserve a kiss, darling, for being so brave in finally making your confession."

Although Darcy was no longer jealous of James Darlington, he sometimes wondered what Elizabeth might have once felt for that gentleman before their marriage. He was well aware that given Darlington's circumstances, neither of them could have seriously contemplated marriage. _But what if it had been different_, he asked himself. _What if Darlington had not been impoverished?_

Elizabeth, who was not wanting in perspicacity herself, particularly concerning her husband, had some inkling of these unasked questions. If ever he summoned the courage to ask them, she would have not the least difficulty in answering them to his satisfaction. She sometimes even thought of introducing the subject herself; but, on the whole, she decided that for a husband to have just the tiniest doubt concerning his wife's affections, was not entirely a bad thing.


	11. The Third Christmas at Pemberley

_**The Third Christmas at Pemberley**_

* * *

_Author's note: There is __an eighteen month gap between chapters nine and ten. The reader may rest assured that the conjugal felicity enjoyed by Mr and Mrs Darcy has continued unabated during this period, in which Lady Darlington and Julia have been resident at the Kympton parsonage, and Georgiana has transformed from the shy, self-conscious girl of Pride and Prejudice into a unique young lady.  
_

* * *

Elizabeth's third Christmas at Pemberley was a time of great happiness and joy; not only for herself and her husband, but for the many friends who joined them for the festivities of the season. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were with them once again, along with all their delightful children, much to the delight of Elizabeth and her sister Jane, who was visiting with her husband Charles. Lady Darlington and Julia, who had now resided some eighteen months at the nearby parsonage at Kympton, were much at Pemberley, along with James Darlington who was up from London for his first lengthy visit. Only two of those invited had been unable to join them: Caroline Bingley, whom Elizabeth had felt obliged to invite, and was much relieved when that lady chose to stay in town with her sister; and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had politely declined the invitation, claiming a prior engagement at Rosings Park. He had, in fact, declined all invitations to visit Pemberley since Julia Darlington had taken up residence at Kympton, Elizabeth reflected sadly. _He must still be very much in love with her_.

Lady Darlington advised Elizabeth concerning the multitude of arrangements, which might otherwise have overwhelmed her. One of the highlights of the season was the musical performances in the evenings. Under Julia's continued instruction, Georgiana was by now almost the equal of her teacher on the pianoforte. Elizabeth's programme of self-improvement for her sister had achieved very pleasing results. She was now a well-informed young lady, in music, art, literature, and also history and natural science; which, conjoined with the steady guidance and encouragement she received from Lady Darlington, had greatly improved her confidence and poise in company. She played and sang before the many guests without the least embarrassment.

On occasion, Julia or James Darlington would accompany Georgiana on the violin, or one would play the violin and the other the viola. Elizabeth, who declined to play in the company of such fine musicians, was occasionally persuaded by her husband to sing. On one memorable evening, James Darlington and Georgiana sang a set of Italian love duets, accompanied by Julia on the pianoforte. They both possessed remarkable voices, and the whole party sat enraptured.

Afterwards, while they were taking supper, Elizabeth said to her husband, "Darling, I have just had the most wonderful idea! Let us ask Mr Darlington to make a portrait of Georgiana during his visit. It is some years since last she was painted. It would be wonderful to have another made now. If it is really good, it might hang in the picture-gallery alongside your portrait and mine – the one Mr Darlington presented to us on our wedding."

Darcy felt everyone looking at him. Darlington was smiling, probably recalling the day he came with Elizabeth's portrait to Grosvenor Square. Afraid that Darlington might make mention of it, Darcy quickly replied, "I fear, my dear, that Mr Darlington is too much occupied with his literary pursuits at present, to have time for other arts."

"Not at all, Darcy, it would be my pleasure, if the young lady wishes it. Although, I must warn you, I am quite out of practice. I have not exercised my art in these two years, at least. I can in no way promise that it will be as fine as the one that now graces your picture-gallery – my _pièce de résistance_," he said turning and bowing his head slightly to Elizabeth.

"An artist, I believe, should always strive to improve upon his art, and to better his previous efforts," she responded. "And I cannot think of a more suitable subject for such an endeavour than our dear Georgiana."

James Darlington did not fail to note the mischievous tone in her voice, and wondered at her meaning. Elizabeth smiled at him playfully, then turned her eyes towards Georgiana, who was struggling to maintain her poise beneath all the attention. Lady Darlington, who was sitting beside her, squeezed her hand gently, and said, "My dear, I think it a wonderful idea to have you painted at this time of life. I wish very much that I had a portrait of myself, in the full flush of youth; it would have been something to look back upon later in life. Please agree to sit for James; it would give me such pleasure."

"Very well," agreed Georgiana, who felt such affection for the older lady, that she could not refuse her.

* * *

The following morning, James Darlington arrived with his artist's paraphernalia, and was led by Elizabeth to the conservatory, which, it had been agreed, would provide the best light for the time of year. Georgiana, who was seated with a book, rose from her chair to exchange greetings with the gentleman, who moved her chair out of the sunlight she had been enjoying.

"I apologise, Miss Darcy, at depriving you of the little sunshine the season has to offer, but direct sunlight will not do; it is too variable, and just as likely to disappear when a cloud comes along."

"Oh, it is no matter, sir, the conservatory is deliciously warm, even out of the sun; I often come here to read, especially in winter," replied Georgiana, seating herself once more.

"It was fortunate, Mr Darlington, that you had your painting equipment with you," observed Elizabeth as he was setting his things in place.

"They were, in fact, in storage at Kympton. I have very little space in my London rooms. As I told you last night, it has been a very long time since last I wielded a paint brush. If I am not mistaken, I have not painted since the day you encountered me in the lane near my mother's house, making a summer version of the landscape, with you standing beneath that lovely oak tree – the very same spot where I painted your portrait, I believe. Which reminds me, I must pay a visit to your picture-gallery; my mother tells me it contains some very fine paintings… and I am eager to reacquaint myself with your portrait, and revisit the height of my artistic achievement."

"I think you may find, sir, that those qualities which served you so well on that occasion are merely awaiting the chance to express themselves again," said Elizabeth, smiling at him, then turning her gaze towards Georgiana, who was more aware than they imagined of the undercurrent of their conversation.

James Darlington turned to regard Georgiana. She was grown into a handsome young lady, and there was something about her face, an inquisitive intelligence in the eyes and a hint of playfulness – or perhaps it was the mouth which gave her that touch of impishness. "It will be hard to do Miss Darcy justice," said Darlington in a voice which expressed apprehension, rather than any intention of flattery, "but I shall give it my best."

"I shall leave you to your work then," said Elizabeth, "I must speak with Reynolds about arrangements for dinner. But perhaps you might first _ask_ Miss Darcy to assume the pose you require," said Elizabeth, with a smile. The gentleman's face showed a consciousness which convinced her that he recalled her acute embarrassment when he had touched her in order to turn her head in the required direction when he painted her two years before. She wished to spare Georgiana any similar embarrassment.

The artist succeeded in getting his subject into the desired attitude without the need of physical contact, and took up his brush and palette. "You know, this easel was given to me by my parents on my twelfth birthday; at that time, my heart was set upon becoming an artist. Art was my first love; but later I discovered music, and it has since remained my greatest love."

"It is sometimes like that with people, also, Mr Darlington," said Elizabeth with a wry smile, before exiting the conservatory.

"May I enquire what you were reading when we interrupted you earlier?" asked James Darlington as he set to work.

"It is an anthology of poetry," replied Georgiana.

"What poem were you reading?"

"_Had we but world enough, and time,  
This coyness, lady, were no crime.  
We would sit down and think which way  
To walk, and pass our long love's day;"_ recited Georgiana.

"Marvel, 'To his Coy Mistress', I think," said he, continuing,

"_Now therefore, while the youthful hue  
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,  
And while thy willing soul transpires  
At every pore with instant fires._

"How does it end?" he asked.

"_And tear our pleasures with rough strife  
Thorough the iron gates of life.  
Thus, though we cannot make our sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run."_

"A wonderful poem; though I am a little surprised that your brother allows you to read such poetry," said Darlington with amusement.

"My brother has nothing to say concerning what I read. My sister Elizabeth makes suggestions, but she allows me read what I will. It was you mother, Lady Darlington, who lent me the anthology – it is yours, I believe."

"Yes, very probably it is. If my mother believes you mature enough for such subjects, I am sure she must be right."

"Her ladyship recommended this poem to me – as instructive. For while this genre of _carpe diem_ poetry is often exciting and agreeable, and full of the joy of life, there is also much to be learned from it," she replied decidedly.

"Oh?" said James Darlington in mild surprise.

"Such poetry prepares a young lady for the many and varied gentlemanly artifices that might collectively be termed _seduction_."

"Ah… yes, I see her point," said James Darlington, smiling.

"Please do not think me obsessed with the subject, but you must know that I have a substantial fortune, and sadly, I must expect to be a target of fortune hunters," she said, giving a heartfelt sigh.

James Darlington could not but be touched by her sadness, and sought to turn her mind to other subjects. "What poets do you like? I mean, that you would read for pleasure, rather than instruction?"

"They are not necessarily set in contradiction – a poem may be both pleasurable and instructive. The Marvel poem is one such, and he is a favourite of mine; along with Byron, Cowper and Pope – and Shakespeare of course. But my very favourite is John Donne."

"I am most surprised," said the gentleman, stopping his work. "He is little known, and quite out of favour these days. I am astonished that you even managed to find anything of his."

"I must confess, I came upon his work while looking through your mother's library at Kympton. I believe many of the books are yours, from your time at Cambridge. I hope you do not mind?"

"No, not in the least. I have far too many books to keep them all with me in town, although I believe that the best of my Donne collection must be there – I like to have him close at hand."

"Is he your favourite also?" asked Georgiana.

"Indeed so."

"I have read some of your poetry," she said.

"Yes, I imagine you could hardly escape it in my mother's house," he said with a grin. "I see you are a serious reader and a critic of poetry, so I shall not embarrass us both by asking your opinion on my meagre efforts, I might find it discouraging."

"On the contrary, your poetry is very much to my taste, and if you devoted the same energy to poetry as you do to prose, I think you might equally leave your mark there," she said forthrightly, without the least trace of shyness.

"Unfortunately, writing poetry is a luxury I can ill-afford at the present time. It is not at all profitable, and sadly I need to earn an income by my pen. Who is your favourite author?" he asked.

"Of novels?"

"Yes. Or do you side with Fordyce in the matter, and consider novels to be a contaminating influence upon young ladies?"

Georgiana laughed. "On the contrary, I rather side with my sister, who shares my love of novels. Our favourite author, together with almost every other young lady in England, is _Josephine Defoe_. And there is no need to pretend otherwise, Mr Darlington, for it is at least two years since I learned that _Josephine Defoe_ is your _nom de plume_."

"My dear mother again?" he enquired with resignation.

"No, Elizabeth, revealed it. I was remarking upon the exceptional similarities between herself and the heroine, Evelyn, in _A Romance in Four Seasons_. They seemed too great to be mere coincidence. She confided in me the true identity of the author, and that you had modelled Evelyn upon herself, and the hero, Jason, upon yourself and my brother."

James Darlington looked up to find Georgiana staring at him with a very inquisitive gaze. "Were you in love with my sister at the time that you wrote it?"

"Good heavens, what gave you such an idea? Has she said something to you on the subject?"

"No-one has spoken a word to me on the subject. And although it amused me that you used her character for Evelyn, I never for a moment considered the possibility of anything romantic between you and Elizabeth."

James Darlington said nothing and busied himself with his work.

"At least not until last night, when Elizabeth first suggested you paint me, and more particularly this morning, when I began observing you both more closely and noticed the cryptic exchanges; and subtle body movements and expressions of the face. Although there was nothing at all subtle about the way you blushed just now at my question… and the manner of your answer."

"Have you made a study of physiognomy, Miss Darcy?"

"No, I have read but little on the subject. My study has been of people. Being many years younger than my brother, I was used, very often, to find myself surrounded by his acquaintances. For many years, I felt too shy to speak amongst them, so I passed my time in observation. I am particularly fascinated by the way people often say one thing, while attempting to convey an entirely different meaning, when in all likelihood they actually feel and believe something yet different again."

"You are indeed an acute observer, Miss Darcy," said James Darlington, smiling.

"And I am very quick to notice those devices people sometimes use to change the subject, or avoid an awkward question – as you did just now," she answered with just the hint of a smile.

"Surely, Miss Darcy, being so alert an observer of the myriad steps and intricate finesses of the social waltz, you must realise that one of the rules of the dance is to pretend not to understand what people wish not to be understood."

"Oh, yes, I am well aware of that; and your most knowledgeable mother has given me excellent _dancing lessons_. But sometimes it is pleasant, is it not, to leave the whirl and the noise of the ballroom; and to lower the mask of the masquerade, and speak plainly, without artifice and ambiguity."

"Most people, I think, would find such a suggestion disquieting."

"But not you, I think, Mr Darlington."

James Darlington was by this time, so interested in Miss Darcy's words, that he had laid down his brush. "You are correct, Miss Darcy; how did you guess?"

"Lady Darlington has become a very close friend these eighteen months, if I may make so presumptuous a claim. She speaks of you often, and always in the most glowing terms."

"You will, doubtless, have noticed her penchant for blind partiality towards me," he said with a smile.

"Oh yes, of course," replied Georgiana, "that is most obvious, and to the credit of her loving heart. Lady Darlington has spoken often of your independent spirit; as a child, a youth, and now a man. It makes me think how lucky you and Julia were to have parents who allowed you such freedoms. I was very young when my own parents died, and my aunt chose my governesses."

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

"Yes, do you know my aunt?"

"More by reputation than acquaintance; and since you expressed a desire to speak plainly, I will tell you my opinion… no, she is your aunt; you shall not hear it. All I shall say is that it is not favourable, and that she is the very last person I would have wished to choose a governess for myself."

"Yes," sighed Georgiana. "They were all of them competent ladies, no doubt, and they certainly worked me hard; but they were totally lacking in imagination."

"And you were not?"

"No, never. I was obliged to strive slavishly for all the usual graces and attainments befitting a young lady; but it left a good deal of time for me to question all that I observed going on around me. However, it was not until Elizabeth became my sister two years ago, that there was a person with whom I could actually speak of such matters; which I believe, brings us back to the question you have been so assiduously avoiding."

James Darlington picked up his brush and resumed his work while he considered how best to answer the question. "It seems you wish for us to speak plainly to one another, and I must say, I find it rather refreshing. Although I may simply say, 'I do not wish to answer the question.' It would be an honest answer."

"Yes, agreed, it would be both honest and reasonable; although I would naturally take it to mean _yes_."

James Darlington sighed, and worked silently for a few minutes before speaking. "The truth of the matter is that I am uncertain. I was greatly attracted to Elizabeth – excuse me, Mrs Darcy – but knowing it was entirely impossible, given my circumstances, I did not allow myself to think very much about her. I have a highly disciplined mind."

"And she was attracted to you."

"My god, what a question!" said Darlington, shaking his head.

"It was not a question," corrected Georgiana, "but a statement; a deduction based upon my observations."

"Then you probably know more of the matter than I," said the gentleman, smiling. "But one thing I am very certain of, from my own observations at the time: her attraction to your brother was far stronger."

"And now Elizabeth feels sorry for you. She fears that she may have broken your heart, and so she is attempting to make amends by forwarding a match between you and me."

James Darlington was so stunned at her words that he dropped his brush and began to laugh.

Georgiana became uncomfortable at his mirth. "Do you think it so funny, sir, so unlikely? It seemed hidden in the language she used this morning; or did I perhaps misunderstand her cryptic words?"

"No, Miss Darcy, your understanding is perfect. I too, was aware of her intention; it is almost certainly the reason she asked me to paint your portrait. The reason for my laughter is the way in which you speak in so explicit a manner on such a subject. I have never experienced so direct a conversation in my life."

"Please do not misunderstand me, Mr Darlington. I do not believe that she is forwarding the match in your interest only – or even primarily for your benefit – I am quite certain that she believes the match to be very much in my own interest also. I love Elizabeth dearly; and have the highest opinion of her. I am certain she would always do the very best for me."

"But you are yet young for your sister to be thinking of you marrying, Miss Darcy; you cannot yet be twenty years of age."

"I am not; and I do not think Elizabeth wishes me to marry yet. This is probably the beginning of a long term campaign. Since we are being candid, Mr Darlington, I must tell you that you should not entertain any hope that I would ever accept you."

James Darlington smiled. "Then I am very glad that I did not ask you to marry me."

"I shall be sure to tell you, if I should have a change of heart," she replied, with just the trace of a smile. "Please do not feel offended. There are two very good reasons why I could not accept you: firstly, you are too poor. You may think that avaricious of me, since I have a large fortune, myself. It is only that I have an excessive fear of being duped by a fortune hunter; and the only certain way of avoiding such an eventuality is to never consider a man who is less wealthy than myself."

"No matter how successful my writing career, I shall certainly never have anything approaching you fortune, Miss Darcy, so there is the end of my unstarted suit. I must admit to being surprised, that with your evident ability at divining the character and intentions of others, you feel you would be unable to recognise so mercenary a motive in a would-be suitor."

"May I ask that our conversation remain confidential, sir?"

"That was already my understanding, but you have my explicit confirmation."

"When I was fifteen years old, I was deceived by a fortune hunter into believing that he loved me and I him. It was only my brother's unexpected arrival a day before we were to elope, that prevented it."

"I see," said Darlington sadly; keenly aware of the scar that remained. "So you determined to become an adept in the study of character; in which endeavour you have succeeded admirably. And in so doing you have penetrated the pretences and ritual dances of society."

"Yes, exactly," she said.

"Yet despite these prodigious skills, still you are fearful of another deception. It must have been entirely awful for you," he said with gentle sympathy. "But this worry will not remain with you forever – it will disappear when you are happily married to a wealthy gentleman," he said encouragingly.

"Yes, you are quite correct, I had not considered that." Georgiana laughed. "Oh dear, then I shall never be relieved of that particular fear; for I do not intend to marry. That was the second reason why I could not have accepted you, Mr Darlington."

"That is a very unusual decision for a young lady – especially one… how can I put it without giving you the wrong impression? Miss Darcy, you are probably one of the most eligible young ladies in England. Even restricting yourself to gentlemen of the requisite wealth, you are certain to be greatly sought after. You are of a noble family, you excel in all the attainments, and you have charm, manners… and extraordinary beauty."

"You offend me, Mr Darlington, by extolling my ornamental virtues!" she said warmly.

James Darlington sighed. "You misunderstand me, Miss Darcy; I was merely listing your virtues, measured in the conventional currency of marriageable worth. To me, your intelligence, learning, thirst for knowledge, honesty, and penetration of character and artifice, are far more admirable qualities; but they are of little worth in the matrimonial marketplace."

Georgiana laughed. "You are forgiven, Mr Darlington; you echo my own opinions and analysis of marriage most amusingly. Matrimony seems so much like a business transaction."

"Yes… and yet… there are those who find happiness therein. Take your own brother and sister, or Mr and Mrs Bingley, for example; I think they have all found great happiness with their partner. You are yet young to be so cynical."

"I agree that those you mention are indeed happy. But look how many are not –including those who once fancied themselves in love. Even love is no guarantee of happiness, it can fade – or simply be imagined," she said sadly.

"As you once imagined yourself in love with that fortune-hunting rogue?"

"Exactly! Love cannot be trusted; marriage is a gamble. So why should I contemplate it? I am perfectly happy as I am, now that I have the most wonderful sister in the world; and the dearest friend in Julia, and the love and wisdom of your mother, who is truly like a mother to me. I have no need of anything else."

"I suppose that makes me almost a brother then?" said he with a smile. "I hope we shall be friends, always."

"I too," said Georgiana earnestly. "Then I can ask you to teach me that Mozart piano concerto you played the evening before last. Please say you will. And if you have time you could help me with the violin. I have been studying with Julia for over a year. She plays wonderfully well, but you have a way of playing… oh, it seems like you are pouring out your soul. I know these things must come from within, but if you would play with me, perhaps I could begin to comprehend something of your art."

"It seems that you intend to keep me busy while I am in Derbyshire," he said with a laugh. "You must leave me a little time for writing; I have a novel to complete."

"Yes, of course; but since you are now engaged in painting, it is an excellent opportunity to ask you about your writing. I wish to know how you go about it," she said, enthusiastically.

"Do you write yourself?" asked he; quite certain of what the answer would be.

"Oh yes, I have always written, for as long as I can remember. I have tried to write poetry, of course, but I do not find it as enjoyable as story writing. That is what I especially wish to ask you: how do you devise your plot and your characters; and which comes first?"

"Generally, I start with a vague plot – or at least the beginnings of one; often I am uncertain as to how it will end – I may have several possible endings in mind. Next I choose my principal characters and decide upon their attributes: the sort of people they are, the things they wish for in life, and so on. As you already know, I borrow heavily from my own acquaintance; but I often create a character from two or three different people, using different attributes from each. Then I place them in a scene, and let them behave according to their disposition."

"Goodness, how frightfully interesting," said Georgiana, fascinated. "It seems almost like watching a play for the first time. You put your characters on the stage, and observe how they think and speak and behave; is that it?"

"Exactly, and just like a play, it is often exciting or amusing. I find sitting somewhere peaceful without a pen in hand; or, better still, walking, are good ways to imagine how the story might proceed. I visualize various conversations or incidents, often several times over; each time developing differently, until I am satisfied."

"Thank you, I shall try it. If I have some success and produce something with which I feel sufficiently satisfied, would you be kind enough to look at it, just to give me your opinion?"

"Certainly, I will be most happy to oblige you – and interested, to see what your fascinating mind creates."

"You are most kind to me. I am so glad we are friends; but there is one thing."

"Yes?"

"You called me an 'extraordinary beauty' before. You must not speak so. Please do not flatter me; you must promise to be always honest and truthful," said Georgiana very seriously.

Despite her seriousness, James Darlington could not help but laugh. "Pray excuse my laughter, it is just that young ladies, in general, go to great lengths to provoke the admiration and compliments of gentlemen – whereas you wish for the very opposite. I am curious to know how you get on with your brother. He is such a proper and traditional sort of gentleman."

"It is true that he used to be much as you describe it; but since marrying Elizabeth, he has become somewhat less conventional; but more importantly, he has come to admire and appreciate the value of originality in his wife."

"Yes, she is indeed unique," said Darlington reflectively. "But tell me honestly: do you really not consider yourself beautiful?"

"No, of course not. Handsome, I believe, is the appropriate classification. I am not _really_ beautiful – not like Elizabeth or Jane Bingley – or your sister, Julia. They are all of them, very beautiful ladies, but not I," she said decidedly.

"And has no one ever said to you that you are beautiful?"

"Yes, of course, people are always saying it. But it is just to be polite or encouraging. I never take such pleasantries seriously."

"A person's appearance changes over time, and often rapidly at your time of life. Seeing them each day, we often barely notice the changes, and rather see the old image we have of them fixed in our mind. The same is true of our own selves, looking at our reflection in the mirror each day. Whereas, those who see us but infrequently, are far more apt to notice the changes."

"You last saw me twelve months ago; do you find me much altered?"

"Indeed I do. You have blossomed from a handsome young lady into a beautiful young woman."

"Do you speak completely honestly, without flattery?" asked Georgiana; curious, but not the least bit embarrassed.

"I do."

"But I am not really beautiful – not like Elizabeth, am I? Please be honest."

He thought for a while before answering. "Before today, I would have said no, you are not as beautiful as she. But now… I think you are." Georgiana said nothing, she appeared puzzled.

"True beauty lies not in the external surface alone; it also involves the spirit that lies within, that animates a person; that shines from the eyes, shapes the lips, forms the face, and moves the body. But more than this, the true appreciation of another requires an understanding… an intimacy, if you will."

"Beauty, as the age-old adage goes, is in the eye of the, beholder?" she conjectured.

"Our entire world is in the eye of the beholder – our own eye – or mind, more rightly."

"You have tricked me; instead of answering my question, you have said simply that there is no objective answer," she complained.

"That is true. But I did give you my subjective answer: I find you _very_ beautiful."

Georgiana had no reply to make; she was perfectly satisfied. Had she examined her thoughts more deeply, she might have asked herself why the estimation of the world mattered not to her, but that of the gentleman presently before her had come to matter a great deal.

James Darlington worked silently to complete the portrait as he marvelled over their conversation. Before either of them spoke again, Elizabeth returned and immediately surveyed his work. She admired it in rapt silence for a long time before saying. "Mr Darlington, to my untrained eye, it appears that you have indeed surpassed your previous mark."

Georgiana rose from her chair and stood beside Elizabeth to survey the work. She seemed struck dumb, as she stared at the portrait shaking her head slightly from side to side.

"It not only portrays Georgiana's delicate beauty," commented Elizabeth, "but it somehow conveys so many aspects of her character. It is unfathomable how you achieved this on so slight an acquaintance."

"Oh, Mr Darlington and I are by this time very well acquainted," replied Georgiana. "We have been talking together the whole morning, and yet… I see aspects of myself in this painting about which we did not talk – moods and feelings for which I hardly have words. How did you accomplish this feat, sir?"

James Darlington smiled, but made no reply.

"If I recall correctly, Mr Darlington, when you painted me, you said: 'You have somehow inspired me to a greater art than I have ever before attained.' It would seem that great inspiration has visited you a second time," said Elizabeth with a sly smile.


	12. To Town for the Season

_**To Town for the Season**_

"Elizabeth, my dear, have you had any success in persuading Georgiana to accompany us to town for the season?" asked her husband one evening as they relaxed in the privacy of her upstairs apartment. The Christmas festivities were now over, and their visitors all departed. In a few weeks, they would be going to London to stay at Grosvenor Square. Julia was as much decided against joining them as Georgiana. Elizabeth had not the least doubt that Julia wished to avoid meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam; and that furthermore, she had not the slightest wish of becoming acquainted with any other gentleman, which the visit to London would afford. Elizabeth would miss them both; but looked forward to seeing much of her sister, Jane, who was to be in London with Bingley, and Kitty also, who was to divide her stay in town between them.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I have made not the least headway on the subject. Regrettably, Georgiana has the Darcy stubbornness," she said, smiling playfully.

"I believe the correct word is _resolve_, darling. But in any case, I have often observed that you find little difficulty in overcoming the famous Darcy _resolve_, when you so wish," he said returning her sly smile. "But perhaps I am more susceptible to your charms than my sister."

"I certainly hope so, dear. As a general rule, Georgiana is most willing to take my advice, and also that of Lady Darlington. But in this particular matter, her _resolve_ is quite marked."

"What I do not understand, is why she does not wish to come with us to town. I always thought that spending the season in town was the first object of every young lady, and that the prospect of a ball, given in honour of her coming out into society, was her heart's desire."

"Your sister is not every young lady, darling. As much as you love her, I sometimes wonder if you fully appreciate her unique character. She has very strong ideas about what she wants, and is in no way influenced by the general expectations regarding a young lady of her age and station in life. One of the very first things she ever confided in me was that she had no wish to marry – ever."

"Good heavens! Why did you not tell me?"

"Because I knew it would cause you unnecessary anxiety, my dear – as I see it doing at this very moment. Georgiana was then but seventeen years of age; her opinions and ideas are not set for life. We must be patient. She is exceptionally intelligent, and in no way naïve concerning the world. She must be allowed to decide her own future."

"But what if her opinion on marriage does not change?"

"Then she shall not marry. If it is her considered choice, I see no great harm in it. Georgiana is independently wealthy; she has no need of a husband for her material comfort and security. I, for one, should be happy for her to remain with us at Pemberley forever, if she so wishes."

"Yes, of course she should remain at Pemberley. But I would much prefer to see her well-married. Elizabeth, my dear, it may be entirely my imagination, for I readily admit to a lack of penetration in such matters, but I had the impression of an attachment developing between my sister and James Darlington. They seemed to be spending a great deal of time in each other's company. They passed many hours together in the music room; and I came upon them several times in the library, discussing some book or poem. I even encountered them walking in the grounds, with their heads together deep in conversation on more than one occasion. Do you suppose that James Darlington might convince Georgiana to reconsider her views on marriage? Do you think him suitable for her?"

Elizabeth could not help but smile. "I am certain there is no more suitable gentleman for your sister in all of England."

"It is a great misfortune that Mr Darlington's circumstances force him to earn a living. While I do not hold it against him, or think the less of him for it, there are those who would. There are those who would object that he is no longer a gentleman, and would cut him and exclude him from their society."

"Such as your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for instance?"

Darcy laughed, "Almost certainly."

"I doubt very much that your sister would heed the disapprobation and decrees of your aunt, on the suitability of a marriage partner – any more than you did, my dear."

Darcy smiled. "Sadly, there are many others beside my aunt who are fastidious on such matters, and would prohibit him from their acquaintance. Georgiana, were she to marry Darlington, would likewise suffer. Surely there must be a number of eligible gentlemen of rank who would be suitable for my sister?"

"Certainly there are," replied Elizabeth, "but I very much doubt that there are many who could please her, or who would have it in their power to make her happy."

"Oh?"

"Georgiana is exceptionally intelligent; she thinks deeply about things and refuses to restrict her thoughts, interests, and opinions to the popular mould. She could not possibly be happy with a partner who did. She could not respect a man who was her intellectual inferior – which pretty much eliminates every potential candidate."

"Except for Darlington? You know, dear, I always found him fascinating and highly intelligent, but I often felt uncomfortable and just a little uneasy in his company. His ideas are so unconventional – and at times, quite provoking. But lately, during his recent visit to Derbyshire, I found myself quite at ease with him. Do you think he has changed?"

"No, not a great deal. I suspect it is more _you_ who have changed, my dear. You are not so conventional and rigid in your opinions as formerly," said Elizabeth with a smile.

Darcy laughed. "For which, no doubt, I must give you credit?"

"Yes, of course, dear. Although you were entirely perfect when we married, it has not stopped me from making improvements," she said smiling archly.

Darcy gave a contented sigh. "So, what of my sister and Darlington? Is there any likelihood of them marrying, do you think?"

"They like each other very much; of that I am convinced. It began as friendship and a mutual delight in the company of the other, but I suspect it may have taken on a romantic aspect of late. Georgiana is not yet ready to marry – and to be perfectly honest, I would be very sad for her to leave Pemberley; she has become so very dear to me. As for Mr Darlington, I have not the least idea; although I suspect that he too may be in no hurry to marry."

"Then you must do what you can to forward an eventual match, my dear," said Darcy earnestly.

Elizabeth laughed. "But what do you think I was doing the whole time Mr Darlington was in Derbyshire?"

"Oh?" said Darcy. "So that was why you had him paint her portrait?"

"Of course, dear," replied Elizabeth, kissing him affectionately.

* * *

Several days following this conversation, Elizabeth and Georgiana were sitting in the morning room when a servant brought the mail. "There is a letter for you, Georgiana," said Elizabeth.

Georgiana eagerly rose from her seat, to take it and after glancing at the handwriting she said anxiously, "I hope, Elizabeth, that you do not think it improper for Mr Darlington and I to exchange letters. I assure you, there is not the least impropriety in the subjects upon which we correspond."

Elizabeth smiled. "The general view on the matter is that it is most improper. This is predicated on the assumption that since the nature of the correspondence is private and unknown, the very worst must be suspected… and the worst might well be improper. However, I trust both you and Mr Darlington, and accept your assurances that there is nothing improper in your letters. I therefore give you my sanction, although I caution you not to let your correspondence become generally known. For the moment it may be best if even your brother is unaware of it."

"Oh, thank you, Elizabeth," said Georgiana, giving her sister a hug before sitting down, eager to read her letter.

Elizabeth was pleased to find a letter from Charlotte, which she opened and began reading. "Oh, no, poor Julia!" she suddenly exclaimed.

"Why? What has happened?" asked Georgiana, looking up from her letter.

"It is a report concerning two of your cousins. My friend, Charlotte Collins, who, as you know, is married to the rector at Hunsford, and is much connected with Rosings Park, writes that your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has lately been visiting there, and that your aunt is most industriously forwarding a match between him and her daughter, Anne."

"Oh, my poor cousin!" exclaimed Georgiana.

"Of which cousin do you speak?"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, of course! He has been a favourite of mine since I was very small. Whenever he visited Pemberley, he would bring me small gifts and play with me. He always took the kindest interest in me; whereas my cousin, Anne, I hardly know. She has never visited Pemberley, that I can recall. I have only seen her on visits to Rosings Park; and even then she never speaks. Oh how could he contemplate marriage to Anne? She is so utterly dull and lifeless."

"Yes, that was my impression also," said Elizabeth, letting out a sigh. "Charlotte is of the opinion that Colonel Fitzwilliam cares not the least bit for Anne, and has not the slightest wish of marrying her; but that Lady Catherine, upon whom he is almost entirely dependant, is determined that they shall marry. I suppose you know that it was her intention that her daughter and your brother should marry? She was most displeased when I thwarted her plans. So now she seeks to marry Anne to her other nephew, despite his lack of wealth. I wonder what Anne thinks of the arrangement."

"My cousin, Anne, will do exactly what her mother tells her. I feel sorry for her: not only does she suffer from poor health, but her mother has entirely broken her spirit, making her subservient and insipid. Did you know that after my father died, Lady Catherine decided that I should be sent to live at Rosings Park, where I could be properly supervised and correctly raised? My brother steadfastly refused to allow it."

"You are fortunate indeed. I imagine he loved you too well to part with you – although he very likely also had reservations about entrusting you to the care of your aunt."

"Elizabeth, do you intend to give the news to Julia? If she still loves my cousin, she will be heartbroken."

"I believe that Julia does still love Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I do not have the heart to tell her – certainly not until the betrothal is made public. If you have the opportunity of a private conversation with Lady Darlington while I am in town, perhaps you might inform her: she will know what is best to do."

"Certainly, I shall, if I have the opportunity; but I was about to ask if it would be too late for me to change my mind, and accompany you to town, after all?"

"You wish to come to town, Georgiana?" asked Elizabeth in surprise. "Of course it is not too late; I am overjoyed to have you come with us. It will be delightful to have your company at Grosvenor Square."

"Oh, thank you, Elizabeth," replied Georgiana. "But I must warn you: I do not wish to attend any balls – particularly any in my honour; I cannot abide all that _coming out_ nonsense."

Elizabeth smiled. "My dear Georgiana, please do not make yourself uneasy; I never imagined for a moment that you wished for anything of the kind; although I hope you will accompany us to concerts and the theatre."

"Yes, of course, I should love to."

"I shall not ask you your reasons for suddenly deciding to accompany us to town, but I do have my suspicions," said Elizabeth, looking pointedly at the letter in Georgiana's hand.

"Elizabeth, it is not what you think. I have, as you well know, been endeavouring to write a story. It was with regard to my writing that I first wrote to Mr Darlington, seeking his advice on a number of points. He was not only kind enough to answer all my questions at length, but he offers in his letter, to look at the manuscript when it is complete, and to give me his honest opinion. I expect to be finished within the next day or two."

"But there is no need for you to go to town," teased Elizabeth. "I could take the manuscript with me for him to read over. I am certain he would be happy to write down any comments he has to make."

"Oh, no, that would never do," said Georgiana quickly. "I would very much like the opportunity of discussing any concerns he has in person."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Stop teasing!" exclaimed Georgiana. "I am well aware that you wish to encourage a match between us; but you know full well that I have not the least intention of marrying. James Darlington is simply a very good friend: one whom I greatly admire – for his literary and musical talents – and who has treated me with the utmost kindness. Please do not try to make more of it than there is."

"I am sorry if I have upset you, my dear, but you know I have a teasing nature. I would never do anything to attempt to persuade you to marry, unless it was your heart's desire, Georgiana. I will only say this: should you ever change your mind upon the subject of marriage, Mr Darlington would be perfect for you – and you for him."

* * *

Upon their arrival in London, Georgiana immediately had her completed manuscript delivered to James Darlington. Thus began the anxious wait for his response. Georgiana refused to leave the house, which greatly vexed Kitty, who kept begging her to join her on shopping expeditions and the like. Finally, after three days, a message arrived from Mr Darlington, informing Georgiana that he had completed reading her manuscript, and inviting her to visit his rooms in Bayswater Street to discuss it, any afternoon that was convenient.

Elizabeth accompanied Georgiana, as it would have been highly improper for her to visit a gentleman's rooms alone. However, as soon as they had exchanged pleasantries, Elizabeth asked Mr Darlington if she might look over the books in his book room while he and Georgiana were discussing the manuscript in the sitting room. It was above an hour before Mr Darlington returned to invite her to join them for tea.

When Elizabeth re-entered the sitting room, Georgiana was beaming with pleasure. "Well, Mrs Darcy, I must congratulate you on having a rare literary talent in your family," he said, looking towards Georgiana in evident admiration. "Her novella is _exquisite_; I feel quite envious. The first prose piece I ever managed to have published was not nearly so good."

"Is it that good, Mr Darlington? Do you really believe it good enough for publication?" asked Elizabeth excitedly. "I am entirely in the dark, as Georgiana has not yet allowed me the tiniest glimpse."

"Oh, Elizabeth, it is only because I did not want you to see it until Mr Darlington had reviewed it. He has suggested some minor alterations – all of which I intend to make – and then he has offered to show it to a publisher!"

"I know of a publisher who produces anthologies of short stories. I have not the smallest doubt that he would be most eager to include Miss Darcy's work in his next publication."

"I had not the slightest idea of ever publishing it, said Georgiana, I wrote it for my own pleasure alone, but Mr Darlington is adamant that it should be published; and after much consideration, I have finally been persuaded."

"It is simply too good to deny the reading public the pleasure of such a delightful tale," he added enthusiastically.

"I cannot thank you enough," said Georgiana, earnestly. "Without your encouragement and advice, I would never have achieved so pleasing a result. I wish there was some way of rewarding you."

James Darlington smiled. "Reading your wonderful story is reward enough; however, while you are in a mind to do something for me, I do have a request to make of you."

"What is that?" asked Georgiana curiously.

"That you join me in a piano quartet tomorrow evening, at a musical soirée to be given by Lady Beauchamp at her Park Lane residence. The young lady who was to play the pianoforte has taken ill, and you would fill the role admirably. I should so hate to disappoint her ladyship; she is a very old friend of my dear mother, and was exceedingly kind to Julia, at that difficult time when she was obliged to seek employment as a teacher of music. Lady Beauchamp is famous as a patroness of music; her musical soirées are one of the highlights of the season. Her recommendations, amongst her wide acquaintance, resulted in Julia finding a number of pupils."

"I should like very much to oblige you, Mr Darlington, most especially because of her ladyship's kindness to Julia; but I have never played before a large audience. My musical talent is not the equal of yours, and I fear I would be unable to do justice to the other musicians."

"My dear Miss Darcy, you are far too modest. The young lady who has taken ill is not your equal on the pianoforte; and I would rate your ability well above that of the other two musicians: Lady Beauchamp's son, the young Lord Beauchamp, who will play the cello; and her daughter, Gwendolyn, who will play the viola."

"But how will I learn my part in so short a time?" fretted Georgiana.

"The program consists entirely of Mozart pieces; all of which I have heard you play brilliantly. I can even recall accompanying you on the violin to at least two of them last Christmas," he said, passing her several sheets of music. "If you wish, I shall come to Grosvenor Square tomorrow afternoon with my violin, and we can practice together. I shall arrange with the Beauchamps for the four of us to hold a rehearsal in their music room an hour prior to the commencement of the soirée. Of course your brother and sister, and any other friends you care to name, will receive an invitation from Lady Beauchamp. Please say you will do it."

Georgiana let out sigh and gave a nervous laugh before examining the music to assure herself that she did, indeed, know the pieces. "I shall spend this afternoon and tomorrow practicing them alone, before you come with your violin," she replied stoically.

* * *

James Darlington arrived, as promised for the practice, the following afternoon, and when Georgiana went up to dress, Elizabeth offered him tea. They were alone in the sitting room and James Darlington praised Georgiana's playing lavishly.

"Perhaps it is like your painting, Mr Darlington," she said with a wry smile, "it reaches new heights with the right accompaniment."

"Mrs Darcy, please excuse me if I am direct with you: your attempts at advancing a match between myself and Miss Darcy have been quite apparent – to both the young lady and myself – since that evening when you requested that I paint her portrait at Christmas."

"I have not attempted to conceal it from either of you," replied Elizabeth. "I was vain enough to believe that my obvious desire for the match might in some way act as an inducement – to Georgiana, at least."

"Allow me to thank you, Mrs Darcy. You pay me the greatest compliment in considering me worthy of your sister, who… no, I shall not speak of my feelings… it would be highly improper to do so, when I am not, and never shall be, in a position to ask for her hand."

"May I ask your reason, sir? You must be aware that Miss Darcy has a large fortune, and is in no need of a wealthy husband."

"I am well aware of it; and therein lies the problem. I despise men who marry for money."

"But a gentleman who truly loves a woman – a woman who happens to be wealthy – is not marrying for money."

"You are quite correct, Mrs Darcy; but there is so much dishonesty, deceit, and suspicion in the world, that no one, but the gentleman himself, can be absolutely certain that his love is pure, and not tainted by avarice. His wife, even, might sometimes entertain doubts: so many other women have been tricked and deceived for their fortune; why not she? Friends, family, and acquaintances will certainly wonder, and very likely talk behind the young lady's back, and cast aspersions upon the gentleman's intentions – no matter how pure they may be."

"You surprise me, Mr Darlington. You are the very last person whom I believed would put the gossip of the world ahead of his own happiness – and that of another."

"The gossip of the world does not trouble me. The certain disparagement of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and those of her ilk, would cause me very little concern. But not everyone is as careless of the world, and its opinions, as I. The young lady, for instance, might be more susceptible; she might feel herself to be the object of the derision of others; be it just or otherwise. Indeed, my real concern is for the lady. I do not know if you are aware of the matter, Mrs Darcy, but, at the age of fifteen, Miss Darcy was deceived by a fortune hunter into believing herself to be in love and… please, excuse me, I have said far too much ..."

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "Pray, do not make yourself uneasy, sir, I am entirely familiar with the whole sad history. You know, of course, that mercifully, Mr Darcy discovered the scheme in time – _before_ George Wickham was able to elope with Miss Darcy."

"George Wickham, was it? I was not aware of the name of the villain – though it makes perfect sense; it is of a piece with everything I know of the scoundrel. He is a master at the art of deception, and has managed to deceive, and impose himself upon, far more worldly women than a naïve fifteen-year-old," he said with a smile.

Elizabeth blushed. "No blame can be attached to Georgiana."

"Absolutely none! But unfortunately, that sad affair has, I believe, left a deep scar upon your sister. While it is perfectly rational for a wealthy young lady to be vigilant of suitors whose object is her fortune, in Miss Darcy's case, I fear, it has developed into an irrational fear; such that she will never be able to entirely trust a suitor who is less wealthy than herself. Though perhaps she might accept him, despite her misgivings, I fear that irrational doubts, as to whether his love was true, would remain with her always; and would very likely detract from – and possibly destroy – her happiness."

Elizabeth sighed sadly. "I concede, sir, that you may be correct – but then again you may not. Georgiana is yet young, and the injury inflicted by Mr Wickham may entirely heal in time."

"I most earnestly hope that it will; but it is a risk I shall never take. No matter how successful I am in my career as a novelist, I shall never be nearly as wealthy as Miss Darcy. Therefore, I beg you: please give up attempting this match; it is quite impossible. And may I request that you make no mention of our conversation to Miss Darcy; it would only make her unhappy."

"You have my promise on both, Mr Darlington," said Elizabeth sadly.


	13. The Beau Beauchamps

_**The Beau Beauchamps**_

Kitty, who had come to stay at Grosvenor Square, was sitting one morning with Elizabeth and Georgiana when the mail was brought in.

Elizabeth smiled as she announced, "We are invited to a ball to be given by Lady Beauchamp on Saturday evening."

"Am I invited, also?" asked Kitty hopefully.

"Indeed you are, my dear," answered Elizabeth, "and I have no doubt that Jane and Charles Bingley will, likewise, receive an invitation."

Kitty was in ecstasy. Lady Beauchamp's ball at her Park Lane residence was spoken of as one of the highlights of the season. To receive an invitation was the greatest pleasure a young lady could possibly imagine. Almost as delightful as the ball itself, would be the reporting of it, to all the young ladies of her acquaintance who had not been so fortunate as to receive an invitation; as to what was worn, who was present, and with whom they danced. While Kitty was giving expression to her rapture at receiving an invitation – very quickly followed by the agony of deciding what she should wear – Elizabeth reflected upon the marked intimacy that had developed between themselves and the Beauchamps in the weeks following Lady Beauchamp's musical soirée, at which Georgiana had been persuaded to perform in the piano quartet.

An invitation to dine at Park Lane, which also included Mr and Mrs Bingley and Kitty, had very soon followed. Elizabeth was bound to return the courtesy; and the following week, the Beauchamps had dined with them at Grosvenor Square. Lady Beauchamp had further honoured them with invitations to join her party in attending a number of grand musical performances. James Darlington, a great favourite of Lady Beauchamp, had also been present on these occasions.

"Oh, there is a note for you, Georgiana, enclosed with the invitation," said Elizabeth, handing it to her.

Georgiana opened it, and sighed. "It is a great pity," she said, "that I have been attending so many events with the Beauchamps, of late. Before coming to town, I had planned to avoid invitations to balls, and the like, on the grounds that I am not yet out; but I suppose it will not do now."

Elizabeth laughed. "Sadly, my dear, there is no precedent for going _back in_, after one has _come out_. But why does the note distress you? Who is it from?"

"Oh, Elizabeth," chided Kitty, "even I can guess the author of the note. It will be from Lord William, requesting the pleasure of the two first dances with Georgiana. You must know that he is violently in love with her!"

"Please, Kitty, _please_, do not say it," begged Georgiana. "And the note is _not_ from Lord William."

"No, of course, not," said Elizabeth. "That would be entirely improper; and the Beauchamps are most attentive to social propriety and etiquette. Kitty is doubtless correct, that Lord William wishes to engage you for the first two dances; however, the request will have come from his mother or his sister, I imagine?"

"Yes," said Georgiana dispiritedly. His sister, Gwendolyn, makes the request on Lord William's behalf, and I _cannot_ refuse."

"Honestly, Georgiana," exclaimed Kitty, "Lord William Beauchamp is, without doubt, one of the most handsome, most eligible – not to mention wealthiest – young men in all of England. All the young ladies swoon over him. How can you be so indifferent, when he singles you out for such marked preference?"

"Oh, he is nice enough," replied Georgiana. "His manners and conduct are exactly what they ought to be. He is charming and gallant and… yes, he is handsome, no doubt, but…"

"But what more could you possibly dream of, Georgiana?" demanded Kitty incredulously. "Sometimes I cannot fathom you!" Then suddenly rising, she said: "Oh, I must go to the dressmakers immediately! I shall tell them to hurry with my new gown, for I have decided to wear it to Lady Beauchamp's ball. But I think I must ask for some alterations. Perhaps more lace at the neck and the sleeves would be more fitting for so grand a ball? Will either of you accompany me?"

"I am sorry, Kitty," said Georgiana, sighing, "but I am too distressed about the ball, I would prefer to remain at home, this morning."

"Not I," replied Elizabeth. "I have business that requires immediate attention, but you are most welcome to take the carriage."

When Kitty had left them, Elizabeth turned to her intended business. "Georgiana, my dear, I want to ask you seriously about your feelings for Lord William. It is very evident that he has formed a marked preference for you. From my own observation, it goes well beyond the simple enjoyment of the pleasure of a young lady's company amongst the whirlwind of the delights of the season. I have also formed the opinion that Lady Beauchamp would view a match between you and her son with heartfelt joy."

Georgiana sighed. "She has been doing _everything_ in her power to forward the match. She always contrives to ensure that we are seated together at the concert hall or opera house or the theatre. And whenever music is played before a small party, she always requests me to play the pianoforte in accompaniment to Lord William on the cello; when I would rather accompany…"

"James Darlington," finished Elizabeth.

"Naturally; of course – he is by far the superior musician, as you well know," said Georgiana defensively.

"But we were talking of Lord William Beauchamp. That Lady Beauchamp wishes for the match is evident. As to the son, though he behaves with the utmost respect and deference to his mother, I do not believe him to be the sort of young man who would contemplate such a step, simply to gratify the wishes of his mother. It is my belief that he is genuinely very fond of you, Georgiana, quite independently of his mother's preference. And I must tell you: I have the highest opinion of him."

"I too; I like him very much. His behaviour towards me is at all times courteous and gallant; and he possesses, no doubt, every charm of pleasing that a young lady could wish for. His mother, Lady Beauchamp, treats me with the greatest kindness and consideration; and his sister, Gwendolyn, is delightful. And yet…" Georgiana reflected silently for some moments, before adding. "I do not know if I could ever love him."

Elizabeth sighed deeply. There was no need to ask Georgiana if she knew what love was; Elizabeth felt quite certain that she did – and that Georgiana was in love with James Darlington. Elizabeth blamed herself for forwarding the hopeless match between them. So long as Georgiana felt as she did about Mr Darlington, she would never let another into her heart. It was all so vexing: whichever way one looked at it, Lord William was the perfect match for her sister. His tremendous wealth must completely disarm Georgiana's fear of being duped for her thirty thousand pounds; and there was as good a chance of her finding happiness with Lord William as there could be with almost any other gentleman she could think of – _almost_.

Georgiana broke Elizabeth's reverie. "Perhaps Lady Beauchamp will have greater luck with the other match she is forwarding," she said, stoically. "You must have noticed…"

"Oh yes," replied Elizabeth, with a sigh. "There can be no doubt that she would love to have James Darlington for her son. Not only is she enchanted with his musical virtuosity, but I believe she is genuinely fond of him. But as to the daughter, it is not so easy to divine her feelings. Gwendolyn Beauchamp may not be the most talented of musicians, but when it comes to social wiles and graces, she is a true adept. She would never exhibit a marked preference for any young man, until she was sure of his heart."

Georgiana laughed. "You describe her well. She plays the social game with rare talent and intelligence. Yet beneath it all, she is kind and amiable. We have developed a degree of intimacy, these last few weeks. When we two are alone, she speaks often of Mr Darlington. Since learning of my acquaintance with him, and his family, she asks me all manner of questions concerning them all."

"Do you believe her to be in love with him?" enquired Elizabeth.

"I should say that she believes herself to be in love," replied Georgiana with an ironic smile, "Although she is never explicit, even with me. I made the mistake of mentioning that Mr Darlington had painted my portrait, and now she has begged her mother to ask him to paint her, also."

"Oh dear, it seems that poor Mr Darlington is to suffer further distraction from his writing," said Elizabeth. "Still, he paints very quickly; as I recall, he completed my portrait in well under an hour – in fact I was totally unaware of what he was doing; I believed him to be painting a landscape."

"He took the whole morning over mine," replied Georgiana. "Although we spent most of the time talking, and he very often forgot what he was about."

Elizabeth laughed. "Gwendolyn Beauchamp does not strike me as the young lady who could engage James Darlington in serious conversation for a whole morning."

"No, perhaps not," conceded Georgiana. "Do you think he likes her, Elizabeth?" she asked softly.

"Any young man must enjoy the company of so beautiful and charming a young lady; and James Darlington is no exception." replied Elizabeth. Georgiana looked suddenly serious and concerned, so she added. "However, there are gentlemen who would seek something more substantial than mere social graces and decorative qualities in a wife."

"Such as money?" asked Georgiana. "I have heard that Gwendolyn's fortune is a hundred thousand pounds, at least."

"That might well count against her," said Elizabeth.

"I do not understand," said Georgiana. "Do you mean that Mr Darlington might consider it dishonourable to marry a wealthy woman – being poor himself?"

Elizabeth felt like kicking herself, as she recalled him saying: _I despise men who marry for money_. Firstly, the conversation had been in confidence, and secondly, it was equally applicable to Georgiana as to Gwendolyn. "I cannot speak for Mr Darlington. It was a general comment that there are such gentlemen, and Mr Darlington, for all his unconventionality, has a very high standard of personal honour, I believe."

Georgiana fell silent as she considered Elizabeth's words. If he were such a man, then Mr Darlington would not marry Gwendolyn Beauchamp – a fear which had been preying much on her mind in recent days.

Elizabeth broke her train of thought. "But regardless of such considerations, there is a more cogent reason why such a match is most unlikely."

"What?" asked Georgiana.

"Mr Darlington would not marry without love – one only need consider his novels to realise what an unmitigated romantic he is."

"But he might fall in love with Gwendolyn – if he has not already done so."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am convinced that he is already in love – with another lady."

Georgiana gasped. "But who? Not you? Not still? You are a married woman now; it would be quite shocking!"

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, Georgiana, sometimes you are so blind! Of course I was not referring to myself – and I am not even convinced that he ever was in love with me; I think it may well have been mere fascination and infatuation. Whatever it was, it is long since over, on both sides."

"But then who could you mean? Surely you do not think he loves …?"

"Georgiana, you are a most perceptive young lady. At Lady Beauchamp's ball, observe Mr Darlington's eyes when he is dancing with Gwendolyn Beauchamp, and compare them to when he dances with you."

"Oh. But he may not ask me to dance."

"I am certain he will – although not the first two dances. It is quite certain that Lady Beauchamp will have hinted to Mr Darlington, at the great pleasure it would give her, to see him engage her daughter, Gwendolyn, for those dances. In any case, you yourself are engaged for the first set to Lord William. The four of you will open the ball. It is sad, and a little ironic, that both of the matches which Lady Beauchamp strives for, will fail for the very same reason."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Georgiana, perplexed.

Elizabeth was about to reply, _"Sadly for Lady Beauchamp, the two partners she has set her heart on for her children, have already set their hearts upon each other."_ But realising that this would not be helpful, she said instead, "I shall leave it for you to puzzle over, Georgiana. But first, please turn your mind to how you will respond to Lord William's addresses, which I believe, may be imminent. I can tell you, from bitter experience, that when the time comes, a young lady wishes she was prepared for such an occasion."

"I shall certainly endeavour to refuse him with a greater degree gentleness and grace than you showed my poor brother in Kent," said Georgiana, grinning. She had long been privy to all the fascinating details of her brother and Elizabeth's romance.

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, it was an abject lesson indeed; and one that I learned from. For when your brother renewed his addresses in Hertfordshire, I was very decided about how I should respond. I am well aware that you are not presently disposed to accept Lord William. I would caution you, however, not to be too unequivocal in your rejection. Rather than saying _no, never_, you could tell him that you are not yet ready to marry."

"But that would he unfair to him. It would likely give him hope that I shall later change my mind."

"And indeed, you may, Georgiana. I know you wish to object that you never shall, but in truth, none of us can ever know, for certain, how we will feel, and what we might wish for, at a later time in our lives when circumstances are very different. My own feelings with regard to your brother, are an excellent example of how materially ones opinions and inclinations can alter over time. Just imagine, for instance, that Mr Darlington were to marry – be it Gwendolyn Beauchamp, or any other young lady."

"Oh, how terrible that would be," cried Georgiana.

"Yet you have told me that you do not wish to marry him," said Elizabeth.

"I do not; and he very likely does not wish to marry me. You have intimated that he would be uncomfortable marrying a wealthy young lady – which must necessarily include myself. All I wish for, is to remain his good friend, to see him often, to be able to write to him about so many things, which – were he to marry – would no longer be possible. Why can things not stay the same?" pleaded Georgiana.

Elizabeth was about to say: _"the usual way to prevent a gentleman from marrying another, and to ensure the continuance of such intimacies, is marriage."_ But she kept her counsel, for, despite the feelings of both parties, their marriage appeared utterly impossible.

* * *

Lady Beauchamp's arrangements for the ball exceeded their wildest expectations. Elizabeth and Jane had never experienced anything so grand, and a palpable current of excitement ran through the guests as the thirty-six piece orchestra played an opening flourish to announce the first dance. Lord William and Georgiana led off the dance, followed by James Darlington and Gwendolyn Beauchamp. Not the slightest hint was required from Elizabeth for her husband to lead her to the floor.

Elizabeth was unsurprised to see James Darlington with Georgiana at the start of the second set. "My dear," she said to her husband. "I think it would be most politic for you to ask Lady Beauchamp to be your partner for this set."

"Oh?" he asked with surprise.

"I will explain later, darling," she said with some urgency, which was sufficient to send him on his way. Charles Bingley, shortly afterwards, requested the honour of dancing the set with Elizabeth, to which she gladly acceded. Her occasional glimpse of James Darlington and Georgiana dancing was enough to convince her that if Georgiana made the observation, which she had suggested some days earlier, regarding Mr Darlington's eyes, she would have not the slightest doubt as to his feelings for his first two partners. It was expressly to hinder Lady Beauchamp from making the same observation that Elizabeth had encouraged her husband to engage her ladyship to dance.

In the third set, Elizabeth allowed her husband to dance with her again; but she advised him that it was not the done thing for a husband to dance too much with his own wife.

"What? Even though she be the most beautiful and charming lady in the ballroom?" he asked with a smile. "How can I be expected to wish to dance with another?"

"As it happens, I can remember a particular assembly in Meryton, my dear, when you managed to resist me very well," she said with a wicked smile.

"Am I never to be forgiven for that unconscionable crime?" begged he.

"Oh, I forgave you long ago, my dear, and I am well pleased, that in spite of what you once professed, you now take great enjoyment in the dance."

"If every dance were with you, most certainly I should," he replied gallantly. And yet when the set was finished, he was happy to dance the next with Jane Bingley, of whom he had become very fond.

Elizabeth danced with James Darlington, who appeared a little discomforted. "I have just been dancing with Lady Beauchamp," he said by way of explanation for his present poor humour.

"I had the impression that Lady Beauchamp was exceedingly fond of you, Mr Darlington. She treats you almost as a son," said Elizabeth smiling mischievously. "And one suspects that her ladyship entertains hopes of soon calling you one."

"Oh yes, indeed she does," replied her partner, sighing. "I respect Lady Beauchamp greatly, and have the very highest opinion of her daughter, but…"

"You do not wish to marry her."

"Exactly," replied Mr Darlington.

"You poor man, firstly you had me forwarding a match with Miss Darcy, and now Lady Beauchamp tries to match you with her daughter."

"But there is no comparison," protested Mr Darlington. "With you it was all subtlety and playful hints. Whereas Lady Beauchamp is become increasingly direct. I do not know how to escape her."

"And yet, I must confess, Mr Darlington, to feeling heartily ashamed of myself. Had I given the matter greater thought, I would have seen the impossibility of my scheme ever succeeding. All I have achieved, with my interference, is to create a bond between two young people which seems destined never to achieve fruition; and yet may serve to prevent them both from finding happiness with another – such as Miss Beauchamp."

"You are too severe upon yourself, Mrs Darcy. You acted from the very best of intentions, and though fruition of the matrimonial kind seems impossible, a unique friendship has grown between us; which, in many ways, is deeper and more delightful than many a marriage. I, for one, refuse to believe that marriage is the defining, and only possible form of relationship, which may exist between a man and a woman."

"There may be truth in your somewhat alarming and unconventional views, Mr Darlington; but you must, doubtless, be aware of the accepted proprieties that govern and decree what is proper behaviour between a gentleman and a young lady who are neither married, nor betrothed. I know you to be disdainful of social conventions; but for Miss Darcy's sake, I beg you to heed them."

"But of course. I would never do anything to harm Miss Darcy. However, this conversation may soon be entirely theoretical."

"What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth.

"You can hardly have failed to notice that Lady Beauchamp is assiduously forwarding more than one match. I am well aware from my intimacy with Lord William, that he is quite smitten with Miss Darcy, and is only in want of the opportunity, to pay her his addresses… and that will be the sad end of our unique friendship."

"Yes it would be… if she were to accept him," replied Elizabeth.

"Then you think she might not? I do not see how any young lady could refuse such a suitor. I have already decided to base the hero of my next novel upon his character and circumstances. He is everything that a young lady could possibly wish for."

"You are very astute in your understanding of what is acceptable to the reading public; which no doubt explains your enormous success. When you write – when you construct your characters – you are aiming to please the greatest number of readers. You shape them to suit the general approbation, and as such, a Sir Walter Bonython – or whatever you choose to call your new hero – may indeed find favour, and excite the hearts of your female readership, in general, and yet not find favour in the heart of _every_ young lady."

"Such as Georgiana Darcy?" asked Mr Darlington, eliciting only a smile from Elizabeth.

* * *

_What__ever can Georgiana be thinking? Would she really refuse Lord William Beauchamp, one of the most handsome, most eligible – not to mention wealthiest – young men in all of England? And for what: to remain an eternal pen pal of the mercurial James Darlington who will never be wealthy enough to marry her?_

_Ha__s the famous Darcy resolve gone rabid?_

_Agony a__unts are invited to leave Dear Georgiana their kind advice..._


	14. An Engagement is Announced

_**An Engagement is Announced**_

The following morning, Jane Bingley was expected at Grosvenor Square, and the subject of the previous evening's ball seemed certain to be the principal topic of conversation. But Jane was unexpectedly delayed, and Kitty was far too impatient to await her arrival, before beginning the delight of reviewing all the excitement and splendour of the previous evening.

"I never imagined in my wildest dreams," exclaimed she, "that I would dance with a lord – and not just any lord – but the most eligible young gentleman in all of England, Lord William Beauchamp," gushed Kitty. "Oh, he is the most _charming _young man imaginable, and he dances so elegantly, and with such distinction – and to think that I have danced with him – I must write immediately to give my mama the news."

"And she shall certainly tell it to Mrs Long; and between them, your every acquaintance in the neighbourhood will know of it within the week. It shall certainly make a wonderful memory of your season in London, Kitty." Elizabeth was too considerate of her younger sister to point out that Lord William was clearly at pains to honour every lady who was in any way connected with Georgiana. Besides Kitty, he had also danced with both herself and Jane. _And had Lady Catherine de Bourgh been present, he doubtless would have begged her to honour him with a dance also_, thought Elizabeth, smiling inwardly.

When Jane at last arrived, she brought with her such surprising news, that Lady Beauchamp's ball was quickly forgotten. "Charles has just this morning received a letter from his sister, Caroline," said Jane, in some distress. "It was to announce her betrothal… to…" But she could not go on.

"Good heavens," said Elizabeth, coming to sit beside her sister and putting an arm around her. "Why are you so distressed at the news? To whom is she engaged? Has she accepted a pauper? Or been seduced by a Frenchman? Whatever can it be, to cause you such grief, my dear?"

"He is neither French, nor poor. He is, in fact, a very wealthy Englishman, and the lord of a great estate."

"A lord?" exclaimed Kitty, excitedly. "Surely she cannot be engaged to Lord Beauchamp?" she asked in amazement; that gentleman being the lord who was much occupying her thoughts at the present time.

"No, not Lord Beauchamp," replied Jane. "For the honour of my husband, I only wish it were so. I am too ashamed, almost, to name the gentleman."

Elizabeth gave Kitty a meaningful glace; silencing her for the moment, and allowing Jane time to compose herself.

"Caroline Bingley is to marry Lord Edwin Darlington," she whispered ashamedly.

"No!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "It cannot be! I have never held a very high opinion of Miss Bingley – or her scruples; but even _she_, could not agree to such a match! Does she not know his history? Can she be ignorant of the cruelty with which he has treated his mother, his sister, and his brother? It is all of it common knowledge… she must know of it!"

"Certainly she knows," replied Jane, "for I related all the particulars to Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst when they visited Netherfield Park following my marriage."

"How can she contemplate marriage to so odious a man?" demanded Elizabeth, shaking her head incredulously. "Edwin Darlington has earned himself the blackest of reputations. No respectable lady or gentleman would even allow him into their society. Does Miss Bingley not realise that in marrying him, she too, must suffer on account of his reprehensible behaviour?"

"She is too astute not to know it," replied Jane, shaking her head. "Not only must she share his guilt by association, but the whole world will question how she could accept such a man."

"I imagine she is determined to be wealthy, at any cost. In marrying him, she will not only be gaining great riches, but also the title of _Lady Darlington_," said Elizabeth.

"For many years, she entertained hopes of marrying my brother," offered Georgiana. "She used to pretend a great fondness for me; hoping, thereby, to ingratiate herself to him. I was greatly distressed at the prospect of one day having Caroline Bingley for a sister. I was well aware that her affection for me was a charade; but I wonder now, if she even cared very much for my brother – or if it was only for his wealth and position."

"Whatever the case may have been then," replied Jane, "it is very clear that her present attachment to the repugnant Lord Edwin is of the most venal kind. Poor Charles is greatly vexed, and knows not what to do. He hopes for the opportunity of speaking on the matter with Mr Darcy at the earliest opportunity."

There was no great enthusiasm for discussing the ball after Jane's shocking news; and soon afterwards, Jane agreed to accompany Kitty to the shops, leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana each lost in their own thoughts.

At length, Georgiana spoke. "Elizabeth, would you mind very much if I wished to return to Pemberley?"

"In order to escape Lord William's addresses?" asked Elizabeth teasingly.

Georgiana sighed. "Yes, that is my principal reason, I admit. I should hate to have to refuse him. It would, I fear, cause pain to both parties. And how could I afterwards bear to be in his company; and that of his sister, Gwendolyn, and his mother, Lady Beauchamp, who have both shown me such kindness. I should feel so dreadfully awkward and uncomfortable – it would be quite intolerable."

"There are ways of dealing with a marriage proposal, in such circumstances, without refusing it outright. A lady, especially a young lady such as yourself, may say that while she receives the offer with the greatest gratitude and pleasure, she is not yet ready for marriage."

"But Elizabeth, I could not carry off such a deception. I do not possess that art, as some ladies do. Gwendolyn Beauchamp would do it with consummate ease, but not I. And I should hate to give an honourable young gentleman hope, where there is none; perhaps keeping him waiting for me to reconsider, when he would much better look elsewhere. Worse still, he might believe it to be a pretence; that I am simply teasing him in order to increase the violence of his affections, out of my own vanity. Or, he might believe that if he persists with his addresses that I must eventually accept him."

"Yes, perhaps you are correct, my dear. His mother, I fear, would very likely counsel him to persist with his attentions. I can see how exceedingly unpleasant it might become for you. Yet, it seems such a shame for you to leave London at the height of the season," said Elizabeth with a sigh.

"Oh, but you and my brother must stay, of course. You must not give up your pleasure on my account," said Georgiana. "In truth, unwanted suitors aside, I have had quite enough London. I have greatly enjoyed the opera and all the musical concerts, and the theatre also; but I do so dislike the way that people wish to display themselves and admire each other on such occasions, rather then simply appreciating the music or the performance. Have you not noticed, Elizabeth, at Covent Gardens, how a great many people in the private boxes spend more time with their opera glasses trained upon the occupants of the other boxes, than upon the stage?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh yes I have, and I quite agree with you. To be perfectly honest, I too have had enough of town, and am greatly missing Pemberley. I long for the beauty of the woods and the gardens. I should much prefer to be walking there than in St James's Park, which seems less like a park, and more like an enormous ballroom filled with ladies and gentlemen preening themselves and parading about like peacocks for their own mutual admiration."

Georgiana laughed. "Oh yes, I so hate all of that pretence and posturing; and the social charade that one is obliged to engage in. I too, wish for the honest beauty, and the peace and quiet of Pemberley."

"I think that your brother is very nearly finished all the business he has need of transacting, and I believe that his feelings on the subject of London may not greatly differ from yours and mine, my dear. So perhaps we may all return to Derbyshire together, in a few days time."

"That would be wonderful," said Georgiana, smiling happily. "I am so missing the company of Lady Darlington and Julia; and wishing to be among them once more. But until we depart, please promise me, Elizabeth, to stay close by my side whenever we are in the company of Lord William, and thereby deny him the opportunity of a private address."

"I shall endeavour to chaperone you most closely," replied Elizabeth with a smile. "I think it best that we keep our plans to ourselves for now. If Lady Beauchamp becomes privy to our intentions of making an early departure, it might very well bring on those addresses which you are so eager to avoid. The Beauchamps are certain to be at the musical performance that is to be given by Lady Basildon this evening. I must say, I am very much looking forward to hearing the famous French countess sing. She is said to have the most exquisite voice. I have heard that she was a celebrated opera singer in Paris."

* * *

The performance was to be given in Lady Basildon's ballroom, which had been transformed into a small concert hall for the evening, with chairs provided for a select audience of several hundred guests. Georgiana was impatient for the inevitable parading about and the making of polite conversation to be over with, and for the performance to commence. As she had anticipated, Lord William was very soon at her side, and appeared determined to stay there. Elizabeth, however, was equal in her determination not to give up Georgiana's company, so they strolled about in a threesome until it was time to be seated. As they were being ushered to three vacant seats, Elizabeth managed to attach her husband to their party in a clever manoeuvre, which required Lord William to regretfully detach himself from Georgiana, and seat himself several places distant from them.

"Oh, thank you, Elizabeth," she whispered, greatly relieved. "I fear he is very much on the point of paying his addresses, and is in want only of the opportunity. It makes me feel so ill at ease."

But before Elizabeth could reply, the Countess de Namur was led onto the stage and introduced by her patron, Lady Basildon. "Look!" said Georgiana, for as Lady Basildon left the stage, the countess was joined by James Darlington, who immediately seated himself at the pianoforte, evidently with the intention of providing accompaniment to the singer.

For some reason, Georgiana had imagined the countess as a much older woman; but she looked to be no older than her sister, Elizabeth. She sang a selection of Italian and French arias in the most beautiful voice Georgiana had ever beheld. Her voice carried such emotion that the audience sat enthralled, hardly daring to breathe. Georgiana completely lost all sense of time, so engrossed was she in that magical voice. The countess was a stunningly beautiful woman, and her movements were extraordinarily graceful. Alas, all too soon the performance was over, and the enchantment abruptly ended.

Elizabeth and Georgiana could not find superlatives adequate to describe the performance; they both felt quite overcome. "Would it be very rude if we were to leave before supper?" whispered Georgiana, noticing Lord William looking in her direction.

After a brief exchange with her husband, Elizabeth replied that they would be more than happy to make a quick departure. But as they were about to leave the ballroom, James Darlington approached, and asked if they would like to be introduced to the countess; to which they readily acceded. Mr Darlington led them into the supper room, where he made the introductions in French, as the countess did not speak English well. She was exceedingly charming and gracious, but Georgiana, despite her excellent French, was in far too great an awe of the beautiful lady to be able to say very much. However, she watched and listened attentively, particularly to what passed between the countess and James Darlington, between whom she discerned a warm camaraderie. But the countess was much in demand, and her hostess soon led her away to make further introductions. Lady Basildon began with the Beauchamps, providing the three Darcys with the perfect opportunity to make their escape.

* * *

Upon their arrival at Grosvenor Square, Mr Darcy excused himself as he had some papers to deal with, in order to have his business in town completed speedily. With their immanent departure, Kitty had that very afternoon quitted Grosvenor Square to the stay with the Bingleys.

Elizabeth and Georgiana were served tea in the sitting room, but for some time, they remained silent. Elizabeth could not recall hearing her sister speak a word in the carriage, and it was evident that she was preoccupied with something.

Finally, Georgiana said. "She is the loveliest woman I have ever seen. Do you not think her the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"That I could not say – for I have not yet seen them all; but yes, she is astonishingly beautiful."

"And charming; and the magnificence of her voice is hardly to be believed. How is it possible for one woman to combine such perfections?" asked Georgiana, shaking her head incredulously.

"Oh, yes," replied Elizabeth, "One feels oneself just a little dull in the presence of her glow."

"Exactly!" replied Georgiana. "How could any man notice another woman in the presence of the Countess de Namur?"

"Any man? Or are you perhaps thinking of one particular man?" asked Elizabeth.

"If you are referring to Mr Darlington, I most certainly noticed his utter enchantment with the countess. And the manner in which they conversed, suggested a particular acquaintance between them."

"My French was not quite good enough to keep up with their conversation; but yes, it seemed very much that way," agreed Elizabeth. "I understood that the countess is only very recently arrived from France; so their acquaintance most likely arises simply from having practiced together for this evening's performance."

"Did you observe the manner in which she looked at Mr Darlington on several occasions during her performance? It was most marked when she was singing that beautiful Venetian love song. And afterwards, also, while we were talking, it seemed to me that the countess showed a distinct preference for Mr Darlington," said Georgiana uneasily.

"Many ladies find fascination in James Darlington… such as Gwendolyn Beauchamp," said Elizabeth with a smile. "From what I have read, French manners are very different from ours, and their ladies are more inclined to flirtatious behaviour with gentlemen; almost as a matter of course. There is very likely nothing to it. And if Mr Darlington had not admired her, he would certainly have been the only gentleman present who did not."

"Is there a Count de Namur? Do you know?" enquired Georgiana.

"I have heard that she is a widow," replied Elizabeth.

"Oh, she is very young to be a widow. One would imagine that she must wish to remarry. She is a woman who could capture the heart of any man she wished," said Georgiana despondently. She remained silent for several minutes before saying, "I am so glad that we depart London soon; I begin to hate it here. Oh, no! We are invited to dine with Lady Beauchamp _again_ tomorrow; must I go, Elizabeth?" she pleaded. "Lord William will certainly wish to take advantage of the opportunity to pay his addresses, and Mr Darlington made mention tonight that the countess is invited; and he, also, is certain to be there. I do not wish to see any of them! It will all be so very awkward."

Elizabeth sighed. "You do not have to go, my dear, if it would distress you. I shall give your apologies to Lady Beauchamp, explaining that you are indisposed. I will announce that we return to Derbyshire the following morning and if _anyone_ should propose visiting Grosvenor Square prior to our departure, I shall advise them that you are not well enough to receive visitors."

"Thank you so much, Elizabeth," said Georgiana gratefully.

* * *

James Darlington was as much disappointed as Lord William by Georgiana's absence from Lady Beauchamp's dinner, and at the news of their impending departure from London. He managed a brief private conversation with Elizabeth before they sat down to dine. "Is Miss Darcy _really_ ill?" he asked with concern.

Elizabeth affected shock. "Sir, do you accuse me of telling an untruth?"

"I would never accuse a lady of so serious a sin. If you say she is ill then it must be so; although it did occur to me that perhaps she was only _ill at ease_, regarding the attentions of a certain gentleman; and that her early departure from London might be seen as a remedy to that particular malady," he said, glancing briefly towards Lord William.

Elizabeth smiled. "You are most astute, sir."

"Please give Miss Darcy my warmest wishes for a complete recovery. Pray tell her how greatly disappointed I was at being denied her delightful company here today. I am exceedingly sad at the news of her departure, which must deny me the further pleasure of her society," he said most earnestly. "I only wish it were so easy for me to escape," said he, looking meaningfully towards Miss Beauchamp.

"In such situations, the gentleman has much the easier part," observed Elizabeth, smiling. "When a lady receives a gentleman's addresses, she is obliged to give an answer. Whereas a reluctant gentleman has simply to avoid coming to the point, and there is very little the lady – or even her mother – is able do. In your particular case, I think that both mother and daughter may very soon realise the futility of their designs," said Elizabeth looking pointedly towards the Countess de Namur.

"Mrs Darcy, what are you suggesting?" he asked. But before he could say anything further by way of denial or explanation, they were joined by their hostess. Elizabeth sensed a consciousness on the part of Lady Beauchamp that the French countess indeed stood in the place of a rival to her daughter; although she was far too well-mannered to allude to it. She treated the countess with the greatest civility and hospitality, and after the meal, entreated her to sing.

James Darlington again accompanied the countess on the pianoforte, and Elizabeth watched them closely. Perhaps it was because she was trained as an opera singer that the countess not only sang, but also partly enacted her songs. Often in the love songs, her gaze and her gestures were directed towards Mr Darlington. Was he merely a convenient prop, wondered Elizabeth, or was it genuine affection? That James Darlington was utterly enchanted with the countess' singing was obvious; but then, so too, were all her audience. _Is it only her voice that enchants him?_ wondered Elizabeth. But try as she might she could not decide the matter, one way or the other.


	15. La Countess de Namur

_**La Countess de Namur**_

Although Georgiana was happy to be home, and again in the frequent company of Lady Darlington and Julia, her spirits did not immediately recover. Elizabeth was quite certain that her unhappiness was on account of James Darlington. Consequently, Georgiana found herself unable to speak upon the subject that was vexing her with Lady Darlington, whom she loved as a mother, and whose extensive knowledge and experience of the world, combined with good sense, would have been of the greatest benefit at this difficult time in her life.

Several days after their return to Pemberley, Georgiana finally broached the subject which was troubling her. "Elizabeth, please tell me your opinion: do you believe that Mr Darlington will marry the Countess de Namur?"

"What a question!" she replied, shaking her head.

"But, do you not think that he admires her greatly? I know that all men must admire so beautiful a lady. But it is far more than just beauty and charm that she possesses: it is that exquisite voice, and the emotional intensity of her performance. When she sings, she casts a magical enchantment upon her audience. How can any true lover of music not fall under her spell? I recall Mr Darlington once saying: 'Art was my first love; but later I discovered music; and it has since remained my greatest love.' To such a man, the countess must surely embody every possible perfection he could ever hope to find in a wife," said Georgiana, sighing.

"Literature is also very dear to him, I believe; and I have not heard that she writes," replied Elizabeth. "Remember, Georgiana, great admiration of a lady does not necessarily mean that a gentleman must wish to marry her. Most men, I am convinced, would find the prospect of marriage to the countess entirely overwhelming and daunting. These are not feelings a man generally wishes to have provoked by a wife. He might also rather wish for a wife who is not an object of such great admiration in the eyes of every man that fall upon her."

"Mr Darlington is not like other men," countered Georgiana. "He is himself so extraordinarily talented, that he very likely would not feel over-awed by the countess. Indeed, it appeared to me that he was entirely comfortable in her company when he was introducing us to her at the home of Lady Basildon. And as for the admiration of other men, I believe he might tolerate it with greater equanimity than most."

"Perhaps," mused Elizabeth.

"And we do not know that the countess does not write. She is so talented, in every possible way, that it would surprise me if she does not write poetry, also. She has such a poetic soul…"

Elizabeth smiled. Georgiana's feelings towards the countess were such a strange mixture of awe, admiration, and jealousy. "In fact, we really know nothing at all of Mr Darlington's feelings concerning the countess. But let us, for a moment, imagine him to be as overcome and in love with her as you imagine. It is by no means certain that such a woman – one who must surely be inured to men falling at her feet – would return his affections. And even if she does, she might very likely _not_ wish to marry him. French customs are very different from ours, I believe, in such matters."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Georgiana in alarm.

Elizabeth immediately regretted her words. She did not wish to further upset Georgiana, but an explanation was required. "I understand that it is not entirely uncommon for French ladies, even those who are married, to have romantic liaisons."

Georgiana gasped. "I have read of such things in French novels, of course; but I never imagined that it really happened – at least not amongst respectable people. Certainly it could not occur in England," said she, adamantly. "And Mr Darlington is not French! No respectable English gentleman could behave in such a way."

Elizabeth smiled at her naivety. "My dear Georgiana, I fear that your education has been somewhat lacking in certain areas." Between her mother and her Aunt Phillips, her own education had suffered no such omissions. "Gentlemen, particularly young unmarried ones, though they behave with all propriety and respectability in the society of ladies, may sometimes behave in quite _different_ ways when drinking together at their clubs, or when they go out on the town."

"How shocking!" exclaimed Georgiana. "I dare say my governesses shielded me from such knowledge. I have, of course, read about ladies of ill repute, but I never imagined that any respectable gentleman might… visit them. It has never crossed my mind that any gentleman of my acquaintance could have indulged in… such pursuits."

"I am afraid that it may be more common than you imagine, my dear Georgiana."

"Good heavens! Do you think it possible that my own brother would do such a thing?" she asked in evident distress.

"I would wish to think not; and I believe it to be unlikely, for he has the highest principles; but in truth, I cannot say," replied Elizabeth. "A wise wife does not enquire into such matters; at least not with regard to her husband's past behaviour, before they were married. But she will certainly endeavour to ensure that if it has occurred in the past, that it remains _past_ behaviour," she said with a smile.

Georgiana was so perturbed at this new information that she did not speak for some minutes. Finally she said, "So, in France, it would not be considered shocking for a beautiful young woman to have a… a romance, with a young, unmarried gentleman?"

"I suspect the opposite, rather: it would be thought surprising if so attractive a widow as the countess did not have a lover; and neither of them would be thought of as acting with any great impropriety. The French, perhaps, value romance and passion above propriety."

"Oh," was all Georgiana could manage by way of reply. After thinking it over for some time, she said, "I suppose when one really considers it, all these social rules are quite arbitrary; so it is, perhaps, not so surprising that they differ greatly between countries. An English lady of rank, no matter how great her talent, would never dream of performing publicly in the opera; yet in France it is apparently not considered to be lacking in respectability. I imagine that the greater freedom enjoyed by French ladies must make them more fascinating to English gentlemen than their own ladies," conjectured Georgiana despondently.

It was evident that the conversation had done little to improve Georgiana's spirits. Elizabeth was quite certain that despite her protestations that James Darlington was merely a close friend, a literary mentor, and a confidante, that Georgiana was very much in love with him – even though it was not presently her wish to be his wife.

* * *

Spring was soon upon them, and what should have been a joyful and happy season was sadly otherwise. Not only was Georgiana downcast, but Julia Darlington also. Heeding Lady Darlington's counsel in the matter, Elizabeth had said not a word to Julia concerning Charlotte's report regarding the immanent engagement of Colonel Fitzwilliam to Anne de Bourgh; but most unfortunately, at dinner one evening, with Lady Darlington and Julia present, Mr Darcy inadvertently made mention of it.

He had just that very morning received a letter from Mr Collins, who was in the habit of writing him an obsequious letter every six months, with the purpose of keeping alive his hopes of future patronage. Mr Collins gave as his pretext for writing on this occasion, the desire to congratulate Mr Darcy on the forthcoming betrothal of his cousins, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne de Bourgh. Darcy spoke of the reported engagement as a matter of fact, entirely forgetting the feelings of Julia Darlington for his cousin. But the stern look of his wife across the dinner table quickly reminded him, and he immediately began speaking upon a different subject. The damage, however, was done, and Julia spoke barely another word the entire evening.

* * *

Thus did Elizabeth find herself surrounded by sadness and gloom, at the very time of year which, formerly, she had associated with the renewal of life and the elevation of the spirits. Fortunately, life seldom pursues the same course for any great length of time; and in a matter of days, events took the first of a number of surprising turns, with the arrival at Kympton of James Darlington, accompanied by the Countess de Namur.

"I decided to emulate Miss Darcy's excellent strategy for evading the matrimonial designs of the Beauchamps, by likewise fleeing into Derbyshire," Mr Darlington explained to the ladies of Pemberley, whom he visited at the earliest opportunity. "Even an almost total withdrawal from society, on the grounds of the pressing need to devote myself to my writing, and my surreptitious removal to the rooms of an old Cambridge friend, were insufficient to deter the arrival of Lady Beauchamp's unending invitations. Finally, when my hopes and expectations of her ladyship's return to Hampshire at the end of the season were not realised, I decided that if she would not quit town, then I must."

Elizabeth laughed at Mr Darlington's amusing speech. "And was the Countess de Namur, likewise, in need of escaping Lady Beauchamp?" asked Elizabeth artfully. In common with Georgiana, she was most eager for an explanation of the French lady's presence at Kympton.

"The countess has become so popular in London, and is in such demand to sing at musical soirées and the like, that she, too, wished to escape for a time; so I invited her to stay with my mother and sister at Kympton," he explained.

Over the following weeks, there was much intercourse between the ladies of Pemberley and of Kympton, and on occasion, the gentlemen also.

Julia's spirits were greatly improved. She was exceedingly fond of her brother, James, and very much enjoyed the charming company of the countess. But for Georgiana, it was something of a trial. The ease and intimacy that existed between Mr Darlington and the countess was greatly evident, and Georgiana was shocked to think that they had travelled alone together from London. But the worst of it was not knowing what were their true feelings for each other. In the absence of knowledge, all manner of conjecture is possible. Yet the more she saw of the countess, the more Georgiana came to genuinely like her, and it was evident that the countess was equally fond of Georgiana. She even offered to teach Georgiana some lovely French songs which she had so much enjoyed hearing the countess sing to them one evening.

James Darlington did not come to Pemberley as often as the ladies from Kympton, as he was presently engaged in writing his fifth novel. However, when he did come, he seemed as eager as previously, to engage Georgiana in discussions on poetry and literature. The novella Georgiana had brought to London was soon to be published in an anthology, and Mr Darlington was encouraging her to write a novel. Georgiana had for some time been thinking to do just that, and talked of her ideas for it with great enthusiasm. Not only were these exchanges of great benefit to Georgiana, but Mr Darlington in his turn was eager to talk on his own project, and to seek Georgiana's opinions concerning various alternatives for the plot he was contemplating.

"We seem to both have a beautiful French opera singer in our plot," observed Georgiana one sunny afternoon as they were walking together in the gardens, "and they both bear a striking resemblance to the Countess de Namur."

Mr Darlington laughed. "I hardly think it surprising. When such an exceptional character is encountered in real life, they can be transferred to a novel without need of great alteration or embellishment."

"Oh yes," replied Georgiana, enthusiastically, "I could never have created such an extraordinary woman from my own imagination, and she inspires such admiration and desire amongst those she meets that the plot almost grows from the strength of her character."

"You have indeed mastered the art of novel-writing, Miss Darcy. What you say is not only true of flamboyant characters, such as the countess; but, is equally true of those who tend to hide their light beneath a bushel. If we take the trouble to understand and appreciate their subtlety, they can be equally fascinating and important in shaping our story," he said, stopping for a moment and looking so intently at her, that time seemed to stop, and all the world faded, leaving just the two of them staring into each other's eyes with an intensity that took Georgiana's breath away. She felt almost frozen in time, unmoving, not even breathing it seemed; all she could feel was the wild fluttering of her heart. How long they stood, thus entranced, before Mr Darlington abruptly turned and walked on, Georgiana knew not. He attempted quickly to return the conversation to a dispassionate examination of the art of the novel-writing; but Georgiana, who remained almost silent thereafter, felt he betrayed a consciousness of that exquisite moment when their eyes had locked. They soon afterwards returned to the house, and for much of the remainder of the day, Georgiana thought over that extraordinary moment, and wondered if Mr Darlington did likewise. Was it equally earth-moving for him, she wondered; or was it already forgotten? _What precisely was it that happened today in the garden?_ she asked herself. Was it possible that it was nothing more than mere fancy and imagination on her part?

* * *

"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth at breakfast one morning as she read a letter that had arrived in the morning mail.

Her husband and Georgiana looked up at her expectantly. "Is it from my aunt?" asked Mr Darcy. "I suppose it must be the formal announcement of my cousins' engagement? But surely she would have addressed such a letter to me – unless you and my Aunt Catherine have become intimates," he said, with a wry smile.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Indeed we are not yet become intimates, my dear, and you are quite correct in thinking that she would most certainly have addressed such news to yourself. However, you were not entirely incorrect in your conjecture; in fact you were credibly close to the truth. The letter is from a Lady; but, not _that_ Lady; and although it is not explicitly stated, it very likely concerns an engagement, although not that of your cousins. In fact, I suspect it concerns _two_ engagements."

Mr Darcy looked puzzled, while Georgiana looked perturbed. "Is the letter from Lady Beauchamp?" she asked. "Surely, we are safe from her matrimonial designs in Derbyshire… unless you have invited her to visit… oh, Elizabeth, please tell me you have not done so!" she begged.

"No," replied Elizabeth, "I have not done so; but regrettably, the Fortnums have. Although I am certain Lady Beauchamp must have actively solicited the invitation. Her late husband was a cousin of the old squire's wife, was he not, darling?" she asked, turning to her husband.

"Yes, I believe it is something of that nature. There is some kind of relationship. I can recall Lord and Lady Beauchamp visiting at The Grange more than once during Lord Beauchamp's lifetime. My father and Lord Beauchamp were old acquaintances, and very much enjoyed each other's company."

"Well, darling, it would appear that Lady Beauchamp's visit to The Grange is intended to renew that intimacy between the Beauchamps and the Darcys," said Elizabeth.

"Oh?" asked her husband. Then looking from his wife to his sister and observing Georgiana's distressed face, he enquired, "Are you are referring to Lord William and Georgiana? Is the son to accompany her into Derbyshire?"

"But of course, my dear," she said patiently. _Why are men so obtuse about such matters, which are so entirely apparent to every lady?_ wondered Elizabeth. "And her daughter Gwendolyn also; whom, you may recall my explaining to you in London, is to marry James Darlington."

"What? Are they engaged?" asked Darcy, in surprise. "But did you not tell me that Mr Darlington was not inclined to marry Miss Beauchamp?"

"Yes, my dear, that is quite correct," she reassured her husband, who was becoming a little confused. "When I said just now, that he _was to marry the daughter_, I was speaking of Lady Beauchamp's scheme – or at least the other half of it – that will very soon bring her into Derbyshire. The Grange is but seven or eight miles from Pemberley; Lady Beauchamp and her daughter will certainly come to wait upon Georgiana and myself, on the earliest occasion. After her ladyship's excessive hospitality in London, I must invite them all to dine at Pemberley; which will no doubt be followed by an invitation from the Fortnums for us to dine at The Grange."

"And for Lord William to pay me his addresses," said Georgiana sighing. "And it will be impossible for me to avoid a private conversation here, as I was able to in London."

"My dear Georgiana," said her brother, "I do not understand why you are so set against that young man. Please do not misunderstand me, or imagine that I wish to persuade you to marry where you would not; but if you are inclined to consider him, I wish you to know that I have the very highest opinion of Lord William. When I became aware of his preference for you in London, I considered it my duty to make discreet enquiries regarding his character and his history; and that of his family. I can tell you that I was well satisfied with every detail of information concerning him. More than that, I find him an amiable, principled, and well-informed young man. I would not be unhappy to have him as a brother. As to wealth, you must be aware that his estate in Hampshire is even more splendid than Pemberley. You may be confident that should he pay you his addresses, and be fortunate enough to be accepted, that your union would receive my unreserved blessing."

Georgiana sighed and took some moments to collect her thoughts before replying. "I thank you for the trouble you have taken on my behalf; and I agree that he is a fine young man and of good character… and yet…" Georgiana could not go on. In her mind, she was again staring into the eyes of James Darlington.

"I believe what Georgiana wishes to say," said Elizabeth, "is that though she greatly admires Lord William, she does not feel for him what a wife should feel for a husband. She has been enough in his company to know her feelings for him."

"Is it so?" Darcy asked Georgiana, gently.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"Very well," he replied. "Far be it for me to advocate against love in a marriage," he said, looking affectionately towards his wife.


	16. The Blight of the Beauchamps

**_The Blight of the Beauchamps_**

One morning, a week after the arrival of Lady Beauchamp's alarming letter, James Darlington was shown into the morning room where Elizabeth and Georgiana were sitting.

"To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, Mr Darlington?" asked Elizabeth.

"To Lady Beauchamp," he replied, grimacing. "She is lately arrived at The Grange, and this morning her ladyship and Miss Beauchamp came to wait upon my mother at Kympton."

"Mr Darlington, what have you done? Surely you could not have been so rude as to flee in the face of visitors?" demanded Elizabeth, in contrived shock. "How could you so offend Lady Beauchamp and her daughter? I would never have believed you capable of such an offence. It seemed in London that you were very fond of her ladyship."

James Darlington smiled. "Indeed I am fond of the esteemed lady – in London; but _not_ in Derbyshire. You may, however, rest assured that I neither slighted nor offended either her ladyship or Miss Beauchamp. I did nothing worse than disappoint them, for upon observing their carriage entering the parsonage, I quickly took my writing book and departed by the back entrance, requesting my sister to inform her ladyship that I was out walking in parts unknown, in the pursuit of inspiration for my writing, and would most certainly be devastated at having missed her and her lovely daughter, etc. etc."

The ladies were much amused by his tale. "But perhaps it was unwise of you to abandon your poor mother to Lady Beauchamp's overtures?" observed Elizabeth. "For though Lady Beauchamp is well-bred and a paragon of propriety, she will not be above hinting at her daughter's hopes; nor opining upon the inarguable desirability of the match, for all parties concerned. She will almost certainly press your dear mother, and even your sister, for their opinion on the violence of your passion for Miss Beauchamp. She might even solicit their views upon the number of days they anticipate it will take for you to come to the point, and throw yourself at the young lady's elegant feet."

James Darlington laughed at this satirical sketch. "If Lady Beauchamp chooses to prevail so upon my mother and sister, then she will be sadly disappointed. They would, with the utmost delicacy and charm, decline to answer any such questions; not only on account of propriety, but also as an act of kindness and consideration to their visitors. My mother and sister are well aware that Lady Beauchamp's hopes for her daughter are doomed to failure; for although it has never been spoken of explicitly amongst us, they well know to whom my heart belongs." Sensing he had spoken too hastily, and too heatedly, James Darlington quickly rose to his feet.

Since he would not meet the eye of either lady, Elizabeth and Georgiana looked at each other questioningly. The same question was on both their lips: _did Mr Darlington refer to the Countess de Namur, or to Georgiana… or to some other lady entirely, of whom they were in complete ignorance?_ Feigning nonchalance, as if he had spoken nothing of great import, Mr Darlington politely asked if he might find a sunny seat in the garden, where he could carry on with his work; and enquired if Georgiana would care to join him.

Georgiana readily acceded to his invitation, and Mr Darlington chatted casually as they strolled together in the garden, enjoying the beautiful spring morning. They talked easily, as was their habit, about writing and music, and the _blight of the Beauchamps_, as James Darlington would have it. Eventually they settled on a bench near the rose garden, where they opened their writing books and fell silent, each one to their own work.

They were thus engaged for above an hour, when they were disturbed by the sound of an approaching carriage. Jumping up and standing upon the bench, James Darlington caught sight of the carriage before it disappeared from view. "Miss Darcy," said he, dramatically, "it is my sad duty to inform you, that the _blight of the Beauchamps_ is visited upon Pemberley." Closing his writing book, he made a quick survey of the grounds before saying, "I shall flee to your delightful wilderness; surely there I shall be safe. Will you join me, Miss Darcy?"

Much as she would have loved to seclude herself in the wilderness with Mr Darlington, Georgiana felt it incumbent upon herself to assist Elizabeth in entertaining their visitors. "Was Lord William with his mother and sister when they arrived at Kympton?" she asked anxiously.

"You will be relieved, Miss Darcy, to learn that he was not."

Georgiana gave a sigh of relief. "Much as I would wish to do otherwise, I shall do my duty, and join my sister in entertaining our guests."

James Darlington smiled at her affectionately. "If you should happen to be wandering in the garden with your visitors, pray be good enough to give the wilderness a wide berth, if at all possible."

Before turning back towards the house, Georgiana assured him that he could continue his work in perfect peace, in the wilderness; and that not a word would be spoken to their visitors of his presence at Pemberley.

* * *

Georgiana found herself happy to be in the company of Gwendolyn Beauchamp, and even Lady Beauchamp – when she was not engaged in forwarding some scheme or other. Her ladyship spoke nostalgically of the beauty of Pemberley, recalling visits with her late husband in the lifetime of Georgiana's parents.

"Do you know, my dear Georgiana, I can recall when you were but a little baby. You were such a pretty little thing. I remember telling your dear mother that you would one day grow into a great beauty – and now everyone must agree that I was right," said Lady Beauchamp, smiling fondly at Georgiana. "My dear, it is such a glorious day; too lovely for a pair of young ladies to be sitting inside. Why do you not show Gwendolyn your beautiful grounds? I especially used to love the rose garden; you must show it to her."

As soon as the young ladies had left them, Lady Beauchamp wasted no time in getting to the point. "Mrs Darcy," she began, smiling purposefully, "you can be in no doubt concerning the purpose of my coming into Derbyshire. My son, Lord William, is determined to press his suit with Miss Darcy, and I have given my wholehearted approbation to the match. I cannot think of a more suitable wife for Lord William, nor any who could make him happier. She is an angel," gushed Lady Beauchamp.

Elizabeth smiled slightly, and nodded in acknowledgement of the warmth of the compliment, but remained silent.

"Please, do not imagine for a minute, that I would ask you to speak for Miss Darcy… that privilege shall be hers, alone, when Lord William pays his addresses. What I wish to know, is how you and Mr Darcy would view such a match?"

"I can assure your ladyship that I have the very highest opinion of Lord William. Any young lady would consider herself fortunate, indeed, to be his wife. And I can state, explicitly, that Mr Darcy shares this view; and would not hesitate to bless the match."

Lady Beauchamp smiled with great satisfaction; it was exactly what she had wished to hear. "I am very pleased to hear it, since Mr Darcy must be his sister's guardian, and stand in the place of a father in such matters."

"In fact, that is not quite so," replied Elizabeth. "I believe that my husband shares the role of Miss Darcy's guardianship with their cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. However, I am quite certain that the colonel would find not the least fault with Lord William, nor raise an objection to any gentleman of whom Mr Darcy approves as being worthy of his sister."

Lady Beauchamp, who had at first appeared a little concerned at the news of the shared guardianship, quickly recovered her ease. "I am acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is a very fine young man. In fact he is on the list I drew up some years ago, of eligible young gentlemen who might make a good match for Gwendolyn. He has no fortune to speak of, but he comes from a noble family – his father was an earl, I believe. My daughter, as you are very probably aware, has a considerable fortune settled on her, so money is not an object. It would have been a very good match for Colonel Fitzwilliam, also, I believe. But I have seen nothing of him about town these past two or three seasons; it is almost as if he were in hiding. I have been hoping, for some time, to introduce my daughter to him. But all of that is no longer to the point, as you must no doubt be aware, Mrs Darcy."

Elizabeth smiled quizzically, but remained silent.

"But surely you must have noticed in town, that Gwendolyn is inconsolably in love with James Darlington? And I have not the least objection to her choice – so long as he does not take forever in coming to the point. In fact, it was I who recommended him to Gwendolyn in the first instance. He is prominent on my list of eligible young gentlemen. But as to the ardent feelings he has provoked in her, I must give the gentleman all due credit. Gwendolyn is absolutely wild for him; not that any young lady of intelligence and refinement could long resist Mr Darlington's charm. He is really several cuts above the common run of young gentlemen, I believe. Would you not agree, Mrs Darcy?"

"Yes, indeed, he is quite exceptional," replied Elizabeth.

"Of course, I have known his mother, Lady Darlington, since we were naïve young girls in town for our first season. We were drawn together on account of our common love of music. She is such a delightful lady, and she bears her present misfortunes so bravely and with so much dignity. Of course, when the happy event takes place, and her son and my daughter are married, her material circumstances must be greatly improved. Their match seems almost providential, it will bring such happiness to so many," she opined happily.

Fortunately, Elizabeth was not required to speak very much; only to nod or smile, or occasionally assert her agreement. It was something she had long been accustomed to in the company of her own mother when she was in a similarly ebullient mood. It amused Elizabeth to consider the similarities between the two ladies, despite the disparity of their social position. Though Lady Beauchamp was far more refined, and much better informed than her own mother, they shared the gift of being able to talk endlessly of their concerns, and they were both of them, to be sure, skilled and enthusiastic players of the matrimonial game.

When she was finally able to get a word in, Elizabeth invited Lady Beauchamp to dine with them two days hence. The invitation naturally included Lord William and Gwendolyn, and the Fortnums also. She was able to satisfy Lady Beauchamp's polite enquiry regarding other guests, that the Darlingtons – all of them, including Mr Darlington – would be present.

"Mrs Darcy, on behalf of my son, may I politely request that in the course of the evening, he is favoured with the opportunity of a private conversation with Miss Darcy?" she asked, with a meaningful smile.

"I shall be pleased to pass on Lord William's request to my sister."

* * *

While her mother was thus engaged in pursuing the matrimonial interests of her brother, Gwendolyn Beauchamp was occupied in pursuing her own. She was far more interested in soliciting what information she could from Miss Darcy, concerning Mr Darlington, than in appreciating the beauty of the gardens and grounds of Pemberley. She scarcely looked at the roses in what was acknowledged to be one of the finest rose gardens in the country. It was encircled by a high hedge, broken by the four entrances; from each of which, a path led to an ornamental sun-dial at the centre of the garden. Since Miss Beauchamp did not wish to wander between the circular beds to admire the beautiful roses, they found a bench against the hedge on the northern side bathed in warm sunshine.

Georgiana was distressed at finding herself subjected to all manner of questions concerning Mr Darlington. She always avoided speaking of him for fear of betraying her feelings; although she need not have worried herself unduly on that head in the present circumstances. Miss Beauchamp was far too pre-occupied with her own dreams and fancies concerning that gentleman to be very much aware of what Georgiana was presently feeling.

Georgiana attempted to end the interrogation by pleading ignorance concerning Mr Darlington; a claim her friend was obliged to accept, for she had not the slightest suspicion of them being anything other than general acquaintances. It was not an entirely deceitful ploy, for while Georgiana possessed a good deal of information concerning Mr Darlington, it was not of the variety that would very likely interest Miss Beauchamp. She appeared to be almost exclusively interested in Mr Darlington's views and inclinations regarding marriage, and whether he was known to have shown a preference for any particular ladies in the past, or, more especially, the present; and if so, who they were, etc. etc. And of course, she wished to know Georgiana's opinion on the degree of desperation of Mr Darlington's love for herself; a question that she continued to ask over and over, in various guises. Although it was a question Georgiana could answer with a fair degree of confidence, she chose not to; for fear of causing pain to her friend.

"Oh, I do so wish he would come to the point and pay his addresses as soon as may be. This waiting is quite intolerable," said Gwendolyn, with an air frustration. "Do you not think it exceedingly unfair, my dear Georgiana, that it is left entirely to the gentleman to initiate a proposal of marriage, while a young lady must wait patiently in hope, and is limited to ambiguous smiles and oblique hints. And until the gentleman comes to the point, she must pretend to have not the slightest thought of marrying him; for if she is explicit, and he does not pay his addresses, then she is viewed as a fool in the eyes the world!"

"Yes, I agree, it is unfair; and more than that, a young lady is obliged to endure the embarrassment of receiving the addresses of any young man who may choose to pay them. And if she does not favour his suit, she is required, none-the-less, to provide some acceptable reason for declining him."

"Oh, I cannot agree with that," replied Gwendolyn smiling. "I must confess I find it rather delightful to have a young man professing his love, and attesting to my beauty and other perfections."

"But do you not feel awful at disappointing an earnest young man who declares his love for you?" asked Georgiana. "Does it not trouble you to think it might cause him pain?"

Gwendolyn laughed. "Young men are not such fragile creatures as you would have them, and they must know when they pay their addresses that they risk being refused. Of course I always endeavour to be gentle – unless they are plainly fortune hunters."

"Oh yes, what a curse it is to possess a large fortune which must inevitably invite the interest of deceitful and avaricious suitors. For such a young lady, how is it possible to distinguish those who are sincere from those who are merely accomplished actors?" asked Georgiana. "I do not see how one can _ever_ be certain."

"Happily, my mother has a nose for fortune hunters," replied Gwendolyn. "But it is sometimes not so simple a matter of a suitor being entirely one or the other. An honourable gentleman without a fortune, such as a younger son of good family, is obliged to marry a woman of some wealth. It necessarily limits the circle from whom he may choose; in much the same way as social position. But within that circumscribed circle, he may well develop a sincere preference for a particular young lady."

"Or he might cynically pay his addresses to the wealthiest young woman with whom he believes his suit may have success. And, if he is sufficiently artful, she might be entirely deceived," said Georgiana.

"Yes, I suppose it is possible. But, Georgiana, surely you do not believe that James Darlington could be such a man?" asked Gwendolyn anxiously.

Georgiana thought about it at length before replying. "I would have thought not. I would have said that he was the last man who would act in such a way. But then I knew a gentleman once, and I believed I knew him well; and yet I was totally deceived by him. I have decided that it is not possible for a wealthy young woman to ever be certain, unless her suitor is himself wealthy."

"You shall not have that problem," said Gwendolyn, smiling slyly. Georgiana looked away. If she was afraid of the conversation turning towards herself and Lord William, she need not have worried, for Gwendolyn was far too preoccupied with her own prospects at the present time to concern herself with those of others. "Certainly Mr Darlington must consider money when marrying, for sadly he has none. But I think him an exceedingly honest and sincere young man. I do not believe he would propose marriage simply to gain a fortune. My mother, who has excellent instincts, is of the same opinion."

They sat in silence for some time, each of them lost in their own private thoughts concerning the same gentleman. At length, Miss Beauchamp spoke upon the subject that had been troubling her since her visit earlier in the day to Kympton. "Georgiana, do you believe that Mr Darlington might possibly be in love with the Countess de Namur?"

"How could I know?" responded Georgiana quickly. It was the very question which had been troubling her own mind a great deal, of late.

"Mama was exceedingly surprised to discover that the countess has been staying at Kympton with the Darlingtons since her departure from London; where, I must tell you, Mr Darlington was very often seen in the countess' company. And they appeared to be on the most intimate of terms. Mother is certain, from what she was able to learn this morning, that Lady Darlington and her daughter were not previously acquainted with the countess. Her presence at Kympton must be entirely on account of Mr Darlington. Mama suspects that there must be _something_ between them… if you take my meaning."

"I am quite certain that Mr Darlington would not behave improperly in his mother's house, if that is what you are suggesting; he would never be so disrespectful."

"Oh, dear," said Gwendolyn, evidently disappointed.

Georgiana was stunned. "Gwendolyn, you speak as if you wished that there were something improper between the countess and Mr Darlington – I cannot comprehend you at all!"

Gwendolyn sighed. "You know that I am desperate to marry Mr Darlington. Yet clearly, there is _something_ between him and the countess. Mother suspects that their acquaintance precedes her recent arrival in England – and may indeed be the reason for it. If Mr Darlington is in love with the countess, and wishes to marry her, then all my dearest hopes are dashed. But, as you must know, French ladies have a different code of conduct from English ladies. It is not at all uncommon for a French lady – particularly a widow – to have a lover without them marrying. But even if it were so: if they are lovers, even though they intend not to marry; then, again, all my hopes are for nought."

"I see," was all Georgiana could offer. She was finding the conversation exceedingly vexing.

"But there is yet a third possibility," said Gwendolyn. "If there is something between them – as now seems certain – then it is the circumstance I must fervently hope for. But your opinion that they are not presently engaged in anything improper at Kympton would tend to negate that possibility."

"What is it?" asked Georgiana. "I cannot think of any other possibilities."

"Can you not?" asked Gwendolyn, smiling knowingly. "It may be nothing more than a brief affair, a dalliance. After all, she is French; and mother tells me that some French ladies make a kind of art or career out of love; first with one gentleman, then with another."

Georgiana gasped, she was completely shocked. "I have become somewhat acquainted with the countess since she came into Derbyshire, and I cannot believe her to be so unprincipled and immoral. No, I cannot believe it of her," said Georgiana, shaking her head emphatically.

"That which constitutes principled behaviour and morality are measured differently in France. And you must admit that if the countess wished for such a career, she would be exceedingly successful. Men seem to fall at her feet; they seem entirely incapable of resisting her beauty and charm – especially when she performs. No, it would be entirely unreasonable of me to blame Mr Darlington if he had fallen under her spell – if it was nothing more than a brief _liaison de l'amour_ – just so long as it is now over! And as you rightly say, he would not be so disrespectful as to carry on such a liaison beneath his mother's roof, so I have good grounds for believing it to be ended."

"But even if it were ended, would it not trouble you that it had occurred at all? Gwendolyn, how could you be happy to marry a man who had behaved thus?"

Gwendolyn laughed and shook her head. "My dear Georgiana, you are such an innocent! Given the opportunity, any young man would take it. It is not at all uncommon for young men to behave in that way before they are married – and sadly, in the case of the worst of them, afterwards also. Virtue is required only of young ladies; and perhaps it is not an entirely unfortunate thing if young men are allowed a little latitude in that regard."

"Whatever can you mean?" demanded Georgiana.

Gwendolyn giggled. "Surely you understand the obligations of a wife?"

Georgiana looked at her friend uncertainly.

"I am meaning in the boudoir, my dear. But if you do not understand my meaning, I am certain Mrs Darcy will explain it all to you in good time. An explanation, however, is not the equal of experience; which is why I say, it may not be entirely a bad thing if the gentleman, at least, is not wholly inexperienced. And if that experience be gained from a French lady, such as the Countess de Namur, so much the better. I think she would be a most proficient teacher of _l'arts de l'amour_."

Georgiana was utterly shocked; these were subjects she had never discussed, or even contemplated. "But… if there has been such a dalliance in London, as you suggest, it will surely get about. Would it not be humiliating to be married to a husband who was known to have…"

"No, not at all; on the contrary it would be something of a distinction, I believe. Almost every man who sees and hears the countess is utterly smitten; and every lady is filled with admiration and envy. The reputation of the gentleman whom she has chosen from the many who vie for her affections, cannot suffer – on the contrary, his desirability, especially to the ladies, must be greatly enhanced. And to steal the heart of that man from so formidable a rival as the countess, would be seen as the greatest of conquests."

Georgiana was entirely discomposed at everything Gwendolyn had said regarding Mr Darlington; and was greatly relieved when Lady Beauchamp and her daughter departed. She immediately set out for one of her favourite places in the woods – one that was a good distance from the shrubbery; for she had not the least desire of encountering Mr Darlington, who had lately been disturbing her peace of mind with increasing regularity. It was time, she decided, to calmly and rationally consider her thoughts and feelings towards that gentleman, rather than continually avoiding them.

He had been an object of fascination to her almost from the start – certainly from that day when he painted her in the conservatory. She was immediately attracted by his intelligence, his enquiring mind, his refusal to accept conventional truths, and his determination to make up his own mind based upon rational analysis and his own observations. It attracted Georgiana because she had herself been covertly engaged in similar patterns of thought for some time; and although she had recognised a kindred spirit in her sister, Elizabeth, the rigour and energy with which James Darlington perused that independence of mind stunned her. She could hardly believe such a person existed. And then there was the extensive knowledge he had gathered in his studies, which so completely eclipsed her own reading. She recalled thinking to herself that day in the conservatory, _here is someone from whom I can learn_.

For his part, there appeared to be a recognition of their likeness of mind. He seemed as eager as she, during his long Christmas visit to Derbyshire, to spend many an hour together, talking of their shared interests. They very soon became firm friends. When Mr Darlington returned to London, Georgiana discovered a strange emptiness and a longing in her heart, which she refused to think about, or to name. But now she admitted to herself, that from their close friendship, a deep emotional attachment had developed on her side, at least, and she had been miserable without him, and thus decided to accompany her brother and sister to town.

_When did I fall in love with him?_ she asked herself. _Was it at Christmas in Derbyshire? Or was it in London?_ She had so delighted in being in his company again when she arrived in town; but it was tempered by the distress of seeing him as the object of attention of other young ladies, and most especially the designs of Miss Beauchamp and her mother. Georgiana had not wished to be his wife – nor anyone's wife – she had wished only to continue their intimacy and friendship. And then there was the Countess de Namur, of whom Mr Darlington was in such obvious admiration. Her fears and misgivings concerning the French lady caused her great unhappiness. And to make matters worse, there was Lord William, gently, but persistently pursuing her… it all became too much, and so she fled to Derbyshire. This time the pain of separation from James Darlington was almost unbearable – until he eventually arrived, himself, at Kympton.

But he came in the company of the Countess de Namur, which was almost more painful to Georgiana than his previous absence. She felt so plain and dull and meagre in talent beside the extraordinary French woman. Although Mr Darlington's behaviour towards her was unaltered, she could not believe it possible that he might one day return the feelings that had grown in her breast. Then, there was that exquisite moment in the garden, when they were discussing novel-writing, and he had said something which seemed to speak of his feelings for her – their eyes had locked in that magical moment. And yet afterwards, it all seemed like nothing more than imagination and fond hope.

Following her recent conversation with Gwendolyn, Georgiana could no longer deny to herself the certainty of a liaison between Mr Darlington and the Countess de Namur. The only question was with regard to its nature. She considered the three possibilities that Gwendolyn had identified; and, like her friend, hoped very much that it was merely a dalliance – and one which was now over. Though she was unable to view such a prospect with the same levity as Gwendolyn, she knew she could not disavow James Darlington over such a transgression – one, which it seemed, was not out of the common way for young gentlemen. She must forgive him, because the severance of their friendship would be unbearable to her. For as she now admitted to herself, it was much more than friendship: it was unalloyed love, as all-consuming as anything she had ever read of in any romance.

But what if it was not a mere dalliance? What if Mr Darlington was truly in love with the countess – regardless of their intentions regarding marriage? It would be the end of all hope, the end of everything; the end of every possibility of happiness. And in that moment, the truth dawned on Georgiana: despite all her past protestations to the contrary, she _did_ wish to marry James Darlington – more than anything else in the world. She wanted desperately to marry him, but she was entirely powerless to bring it about, or to hasten it in any way. It was just as Gwendolyn had said: the initiative was all on the gentleman's side… or was it?


	17. Coming to the Point

**_Coming to the Point_**

Georgiana had hoped for an opportunity to speak with James Darlington prior to the dinner party for the Beauchamps – and the inevitable marriage proposal of Lord William. However, events seemed to conspire against it. Lady Beauchamp's party was the first to arrive. They came in two carriages, for apart from Lady Beauchamp, her son, and her daughter, there was old Squire Fortnum and his lady, along with their two sons: the young squire, John Fortnum, and his younger brother, Harold, lately installed as the rector of Kympton. When the Darlingtons and the Countess de Namur arrived in the carriage which had been sent for them, the party was complete.

As they were chatting over drinks in the drawing room, prior to dining, Georgiana said to Mr Darlington, "I have just discovered an old copy of Shakespeare's sonnets in the library. I should like you to see it, for it contains three sonnets that I cannot recall ever seeing before."

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Darcy; this sounds like a truly remarkable find," said he, waiting until Georgiana had exited the room before placing his glass on a table, and taking a different route to the library.

After he had entered, Georgiana carefully adjusted the library door, so that it was slightly ajar. Although the two of them had spent many hours in private conversation, Georgiana did not wish to arouse the suspicions of those amongst their visitors who were unfamiliar with the unusual nature of their friendship.

"And what did you really wish to speak of, Miss Darcy? Or has the Bard's ghost indeed paid a visit to your library, to augment his already copious writings?"

"You know me too well, sir," she said, smiling at him warmly.

He returned her smile tenderly.

"Do you recall anything of our conversation, sir, on the morning you painted my portrait in the conservatory?"

"I shall never forget it," he said earnestly.

"I told you, then, that I intended never to marry"

"And you have since changed your mind?" he asked with an enquiring smile.

"Yes, I have. I also stated that I could never marry a gentleman who was poorer than myself."

"Yes, I recall your profound misgivings at the prospect of being deceived by another fortune hunter. Am I to understand that you have likewise changed your mind upon that subject?"

"Not unequivocally," she replied with a coy smile. "However, in the case of a gentleman with whom I was intimately acquainted, and one whom I completely trusted: _yes_."

"I see," he responded warmly.

"I believe, I further said, regarding the possibility of your proposing marriage to me – which we both understood to be the scheme of my sister, Elizabeth – that the answer would, most certainly, be no —"

"– and that you would be sure to tell me, should ever you have a change of heart," whispered James Darlington, staring intently into Georgiana's eyes which locked with his.

Georgiana felt mesmerised, as if she were being drawn, inescapably, towards James Darlington. It felt as if they were gliding, inevitably, towards each other, in a movement which seemed destined to end in an embrace. But suddenly, the spell was abruptly broken by the sound of someone entering the library. Georgiana turned quickly, and saw that it was Lord William Beauchamp. Mr Darlington was concealed from his lordship's view by the end of a bookcase, and Lord William, who had apparently not heard their voices, assumed that Georgiana was alone.

"Miss Darcy, I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I only learned this very minute that you were gone to the library," said Lord William, earnestly.

"Oh," said Georgiana, all flustered, as she realised that he must have assumed she had come to the library for their private interview. "I have not been waiting long. Mr Darlington happened upon me, and I have been assisting him in finding a book."

"Thank you, Miss Darcy, this looks to be the very one I was in search of," said James Darlington, stepping out from behind the shelf, clutching a book. "Err… please excuse me," he said, bowing to Miss Darcy and Lord William, before exiting the library.

It was apparent from Lord William's expression that he was not the least bit suspicious; being entirely preoccupied with the business at hand. It looked to Georgiana like he was silently rehearsing his lines.

Finally, he summoned his courage and spoke. "My dear Miss Darcy, it cannot have escaped your notice during our all too brief acquaintance in London, that I have developed the greatest admiration for you. You embody everything that a gentleman could possibly wish for: beauty, charm, respectably, accomplishments – you play and sing divinely. And I might add that mother, Lady Beauchamp, and my sister, Gwendolyn, have the very highest opinion of you."

Lord William paused a moment to gather his thoughts and recall his lines. Georgiana, feeling quite audacious, after having all but proposed to Mr Darlington, seized the moment, and took Lord William by surprise, before he could get to the point. "Sir, pray do not speak further on the subject."

Lord William looked completely stunned; this was not how his mother had told him it should be.

"Sir, please allow me the presumption of guessing where your speech is leading; and to tell you that I am not yet ready to answer the question that you wish to ask of me."

Lord William gave a nervous laugh. "I do not understand."

"Lord William, I greatly respect you, and have the very highest opinion of you. Furthermore, I am greatly honoured that you should wish to pay me your addresses. I thank you, sincerely, for the generous compliments you have just paid me; but, I must tell you that I am not yet ready to make a decision regarding marriage. I earnestly hope that there was nothing in my behaviour in town that gave you a contrary expectation. If I smiled at you, it was because you are a charming young man, and it is always a pleasure to be in your company. If you mistook my smiles and complaisance for something else, then I apologise, unreservedly."

Lord William remained silent for some time, looking vaguely about the library while avoiding Miss Darcy's face. Clearly, his mother had not provided him with suitable words for such an eventuality, and he was struggling to find his own. Finally, he looked at Georgiana entreatingly and said, "Then it is not an outright refusal, Miss Darcy? May I, at least, believe that there is yet hope for me? May I dare cherish the thought that when you are ready to consider marriage; that should I pay you my addresses at that time, there might be some prospect of success?"

Georgiana smiled at him gently. He really was a very nice young man; and when obliged to depart from his mother's script, he spoke well: with warmth and sincerity. Were it not for another, she might well have considered his addresses seriously. "Certainly it was not a refusal sir – for I did not allow you to ask the question. I am not yet one and twenty, Lord William, and I live very happily here at Pemberley, with by brother and sister. Marriage demands far greater changes of a woman, than it does a man. It means uprooting herself from her country, from the home where she has lived all her life, and from her dearest friends. These are all of them, very precious to me, sir, and it would be a great wrench to give up so much."

"Goodness, I never considered it in such a light. I am afraid that young men tend to see things very much from their own viewpoint, and believe that every young lady who is out, must be wishing to marry; but I see now that it may not always be so."

Their private conversation ended soon afterwards, and they rejoined the rest of the party in the drawing room. Georgiana felt greatly relieved, and better satisfied with the outcome than she had anticipated. Lord William was somewhat downcast during the meal, but bore his disappointment with composure. Georgiana occasionally detected his mother, who had doubtless interrogated him, looking at her thoughtfully; but, she spoke not a word on the subject, and behaved as amicably towards Georgiana as always.

James Darlington seemed satisfied with the expressions he detected upon the faces of Miss Darcy and Lord William when they returned from the library, and was in very good spirits. After the meal, he accompanied the Countess de Namur on the pianoforte with great enthusiasm. A little too much, perhaps, for Lady Beauchamp who did not fail to notice that the French lady exercised a far greater fascination upon Mr Darlington than her own daughter, Gwendolyn, was able to provoke in that gentleman.

* * *

Two days later, the same party gathered to dine at The Grange. It was a very pretty property, if not as grand as Pemberley. Elizabeth noticed that the young squire, John Fortnum, seemed rather taken by Gwendolyn Beauchamp, at least whenever his attention was not distracted by the countess – a distraction which seemed to afflict every gentleman present – even old Squire Fortnum; and worse still, she noticed, on occasion, her own husband – though he tried very hard not to look in the countess' direction; particularly when his wife might observe him. Elizabeth briefly contemplated a little flirtation with James Darlington in front of her errant husband, as a suitable _quid pro quo_. However, recalling his former jealousy of that gentleman, she decided it would be too unkind; especially as he was to be absent from home for the next several days, fulfilling his duties as a magistrate at the Derby assizes. Elizabeth did not wish for them to part on a vexatious note.

Despite everything, Elizabeth liked the countess very much; and did not blame her for the effect she had upon men. She seemed to flirt without intention, as if it were simply part of her nature. She behaved in exactly the same manner when she was amongst the ladies, after they had withdrawn from the dining room. Probably, it is not at all unusual for a French lady to behave thus, reflected Elizabeth, particularly one who is used to performing upon the stage.

While the gentlemen were at their port and cigars, the ladies formed a plan for a picnic at Pemberley the following day. Lady Beauchamp was already engaged to spend the day at the parsonage in Kympton with Lady Darlington, but the five younger ladies were quite determined to take advantage of the wonderful spring weather.

When the gentlemen rejoined them, Lord William approached Georgiana and begged for a private word with her in the library. Though she acceded to his request, Georgiana was quite taken by surprise; for she had believed his attentions to be at an end, for the present time at least.

"My dear Miss Darcy, I beg your indulgence," he beseeched her, when they had gained the privacy of the library. "I promise I shall not ask you that question which you begged me not to ask, in the library at Pemberley."

"To what purpose, then, do you request a further private conversation, sir?"

Lord William looked a little sheepish as he shuffled his feet, attempting to find the right words – or more probably, the words his mother had chosen for him. "I wish you to know, Miss Darcy, that I perfectly understand your disinclination to marry at the present time. On thinking it over, I entirely comprehend your reluctance at giving up everyone and everything that is familiar to you here, in Derbyshire, for an unknown country and society. I would therefore like to propose that you pay a visit to Hampshire. I think you would be most impressed with the estate, and find much to admire in it – most especially the extensive gardens and the beautiful park. The invitation, of course, will come from my mother, as is proper; and should you wish for the company of your friends, they will be most welcome. We would be delighted if Mr and Mrs Darcy, and also Lady Darlington and her son and daughter, were to be of the party."

"Oh," said Georgiana, not knowing how to respond. She was already decided that she did not wish to visit the Beauchamp estate in Hampshire; however she did not know how to refuse such hospitality. Were it not for the prospect of Lord William's continued addresses and his mother's schemes, it might indeed have been a pleasant prospect; for Georgiana was genuinely fond of Gwendolyn. However, she well understood the unspoken motive behind the invitation.

Sensing her hesitation, the gentleman said, "There is no need to give an immediate answer, Miss Darcy. Perhaps you may wish to consult with you brother and sister. Indeed, you must first request your brother's permission. And of course, you will wish to enquire amongst your friends as to which of them would care be of the party."

"Yes," said Georgiana, relieved.

"I shall ride to Pemberley two days hence, in the morning to hear your answer, if it pleases you?"

Georgiana thought that it was not very much time to decide; although she had no intention of accepting his invitation. It would, however, be sufficient time to devise an acceptable excuse.

* * *

The picnic at Pemberley on the following day was a great success. It was warm and gloriously sunny. Elizabeth had picked a beautiful spot in the meadow beside the river. James Darlington arrived with Julia and the countess – not to join the ladies' picnic, but to capture it on canvas. "I could not resist the opportunity of painting five of the loveliest ladies of my acquaintance in such a beautiful setting," said he, as he set about his work at an unobtrusive distance from where they picnicked.

Georgiana was greatly surprised by his presence, despite the artistic temptation to which he avowed. Miss Beauchamp had been increasingly attentive to him at their recent meetings, and Georgiana would have thought he might rather have avoided her – unless the distress he professed at that lady's attentions was not entirely genuine. True to form, Mr Darlington worked quickly, and the painting was completed before their picnic was over. Despite their entreaties, he refused to show it to them; saying there were some final touches required, which could only be made with the aid of materials that were presently at the parsonage. To avoid the curiosity and prying eyes of the ladies, he packed up his things and set off for the house, leaving them to finish their picnic.

Georgiana whispered to Elizabeth that she wished to speak with her privately. With all the preparations for the picnic that morning, she had not yet had a chance to apprise Elizabeth of Lord William's invitation for her to visit the Beauchamps in Hampshire. Georgiana wished for her sister's assistance in contriving a credible excuse for declining the invitation. As the servants cleared away the picnic things and carried them back to the house, Georgiana had her opportunity, for the other three ladies had wandered off to enjoy the beauty of the garden. Elizabeth suggested that they set out along the river.

Georgiana had, of course, previously recounted to Elizabeth her conversation with Lord William in the library at Pemberley, on the night of the dinner party. While she had not described in detail her prior conversation there with James Darlington, she had broadly hinted to her sister of her belief that an understanding was developing between them. It was news that gave Elizabeth the greatest delight.

Georgiana recounted Lord William's words of the night before; and Elizabeth immediately observed, "Lady Beauchamp is a very shrewd woman; for though the son is unmistakably keen on the match, this ploy must be entirely her doing."

"Yes, that is how it appeared to me," replied Georgiana. "Lord William will come tomorrow morning, for my answer. Elizabeth, what must I say to him?"

Elizabeth though it over for some time. "Let us walk in the rose garden; it is so beautiful at this time of year," she said, taking Georgiana by the arm. "Allow me ask you a question, my dear. Can you imagine any circumstance in which you might accept Lord William's addresses – which, as you are no doubt aware, would most certainly be renewed in Hampshire."

"He is a very fine gentleman; I have nothing but admiration for him – but unfortunately, nothing _other_ than admiration. I feel not the slightest love for him, Elizabeth."

"Because your heart is engaged elsewhere," said Elizabeth turning to look at her sister. Georgiana simply smiled and nodded coyly. "Then you must tell Lord William firmly, that there is no hope of him ever receiving the answer that he wishes to hear."

"But would it not be cruel to be so direct? Would it not be kinder to make some kind of excuse?" asked Georgiana in distress.

"Were it not for his mother, Lady Beauchamp, I would agree with such a course. However, I fear that unless you are explicit, and tell Lord William the unadorned truth, his mother will carry on with her scheming forever. There are women who play the game of courtship, in the spirit with which others play the game of chess: for the challenge and the sport of it, and to assert their mastery of the game. I strongly suspect that Lady Beauchamp may be such a one."

"And her children are her pawns?"

"Yes, perhaps, something like that. Although, I am quite certain her ladyship believes that she plays exclusively for their benefit. If you speak honestly with Lord William, the game will be over, and he will then be free to look elsewhere. From Kitty's observations on the matter in town, there will be no want of eligible young ladies eager to furnish him with the answer he desires, and that you are bound to deny him. I know it will be hard for you, my dear Georgiana, but it will be far kinder to him in the long run."

"Yes," agreed Georgiana, with a heartfelt sigh, "you are absolutely correct. I shall do exactly as you suggest. He is the very nicest of young men; and deserves to be treated with kindness and honesty, even though my words are bound to make him unhappy at first."

They walked on in silence for some time, following a path that brought them to one of the four entrances of the rose garden. They were no more than ten feet from the entrance when Elizabeth spied, through the gap in the hedge, two people standing at the very centre of the garden beside the sun dial. Elizabeth stopped, her face turning crimson. Georgiana, who had been looking at the delicate new leaves on a nearby tree, turned towards Elizabeth. Seeing the distressed expression on her sister's face, she followed Elizabeth's anguished gaze through the break in the hedge to the two figures at the centre of the garden. It was a man and a woman standing very closely together with their arms extended forward holding each other's hands. They were staring intently, lovingly, into each other's eyes. They appeared to be speaking softly – although Georgiana could not be certain; but as to their identities, there could be not the slightest doubt. The lovers were far too absorbed in each other to notice that they were being observed.

_Author's note: The reader is invited to leave their opinion, and to conjecture as to the identity of the couple by the fountain. Possible choices:_

_Darcy and the Countess_

_James Darlington and the Countess_

_James Darlington and Gwendolyn_

_Lord William and the Countess _

_Lord William and Julia Darlington _

_Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr Collins _

_(In the latter case the lady would be standing with her back towards the gentleman who would be upon his knees with the intention of imparting a heartfelt kiss to her ladyship's nether regions.)_


	18. A Change of Heart

_**A Change of Heart**_

Elizabeth resolutely turned Georgiana away from the rose garden, and almost dragged her down the first path that would take them out of sight of the lovers: James Darlington and the Countess de Namur.

Georgiana seemed unconscious of their direction. She walked doggedly onwards, as quickly as possible, tears streaming down her cheeks. When they had gone a good distance from the rose garden, Elizabeth stopped Georgiana, and embraced her. Georgiana now began to cry in earnest. She spoke not a word as her sister attempted to comfort her. Eventually, Georgiana allowed herself to be led back to the house, where she straightaway rushed upstairs to her apartment.

Elizabeth instructed the butler to serve refreshments to her guests upon their return to the house, and requested him to give them her apologies: both she and Miss Darcy had taken too much sun, and would not be well enough to rejoin them. She then retired to her own apartment, for she had not the slightest wish of seeing either James Darlington or the Countess de Namur – ever again.

Elizabeth had refreshments sent up to Georgiana, but when she visited her sister's apartment, she saw that the food lay untouched. Elizabeth attempted to encourage her sister to speak, but she would not respond. Georgiana sat huddled in her favourite chair, her body shaking and shuddering with grief. All through the afternoon, she sobbed wordlessly. It was plain that she wished to be alone in her grief, so Elizabeth confined herself to looking in on her sister every hour. Georgiana's abject misery broke Elizabeth's heart, and there seemed nothing she could do to help her poor, suffering sister.

It was not until Elizabeth's final visit, at bedtime, that Georgiana finally spoke. Once started, the words gushed forth in a searing torrent. Georgiana recounted to Elizabeth every detail of what had passed between James Darlington and herself. She spoke of their profound friendship, which had swiftly transformed into the deepest, and most intense, love – for her, at least. It was only in the last few days that she had finally allowed herself to believe that he might return her love, while all the time, she feared that it must be eclipsed by the Countess de Namur, should that French siren desire him. But yet she loved him, despite all her fears, for she was entirely unable to do otherwise; her heart was his completely. And now it was utterly crushed and shattered.

There was nothing Elizabeth could say to ease Georgiana's pain. She hugged her, and knelt before her, holding her hands while she cried and cried, until exhaustion eventually overcame her, and she allowed herself to be helped to her bed.

* * *

The following morning, when Elizabeth entered her sister's apartment, she was surprised to find Georgiana at her toilet, preparing herself to go downstairs. Georgiana seemed entirely altered from the previous evening. It was as if all the emotion had drained out of her. She was calm and passive – lifeless almost – as if something had died within her during the night. It discomposed Elizabeth greatly to see her thus.

"Georgiana, I intend to go to Kympton directly after breakfast. I am so angry with Mr Darlington that if I do not tell him what an abominable, deceitful, rogue he is to his face, I shall never again feel at ease."

"What good will it do? It is all too late now; it will make no difference," said Georgiana, bleakly. "I never wish to see him again."

"I will be most surprised if, following my dressing-down, he does not depart Derbyshire this very day. And I doubt, very much, that he will ever dare show his face in these parts again."

Georgiana made no response; she just sat staring at her pale reflection in the mirror with unfocused eyes.

"My dear, you do not look well. Stay in your apartment; I shall have breakfast sent up."

"I must go down later," said Georgiana. "Lord William comes this morning."

"Oh, dear, I forgot all about Lord William," said Elizabeth. "Never mind, I shall send a message to The Grange, informing him that you are not well, and requesting him not to come. I shall also politely decline the invitation to visit Hampshire on your behalf."

"No," said Georgiana. "Do not send a message, I wish to speak with him."

"Are certain, my dear? Are you sure that you are strong enough? You know how persistent he can be. You will need all your wits about you to decline his invitation."

"I do not intend to decline anything," replied Georgiana.

"What? You intend to accept the invitation to visit Hampshire?"

"No, I intend to accept his offer of marriage."

"Georgiana, are you certain you know what you are about?" demanded Elizabeth, in astonishment.

"Yes. I am certain; it is exactly what I want."

"But… only yesterday, you told me that you had no love for him. How can you now be contemplating marriage?"

"I have no love for Lord William, it is true. I have no love for anyone any more. I gave all of my love to _that_ man, and he tore it up and threw it away. There is no more; I shall never feel love again. Twice, in my life, have I entrusted my heart to a gentleman; and twice, was I utterly duped and deceived. Following the first occasion, I became cynical about love; I was no longer able to believe in it. I decided that it was all fancy and self-delusion. But when _he_ appeared in my life, all my doubts gradually dissolved. This time I was certain that I had truly found love, of the highest order. It was an emotion so exquisite, so superior in every way to that first childish indulgence that I was convinced this time it was real. However, as it has transpired, on _his_ side at least, it was nothing – nothing at all but my own wishful thinking and delusion. Never, again, shall I allow myself to believe in love."

"My dear Georgiana, you have just experienced an enormous disappointment, and it is very natural that you should feel deflated and bitter about life… and love. But you are yet young, my dear, and these feelings will eventually diminish and pass with time. At this moment, when you are cast so low, it would be a very great mistake, I believe, to make a decision of this kind, and commit yourself to a marriage which will last your whole life long."

"Lord William is a good man, and I am certain that my chances of happiness are as good with him as they can be with any other. And at least, with him, I may be sure that his affection is genuinely for myself, and not my fortune. When we marry, and I wish for it as soon as may be, he will take me away from here, and away from the Darlingtons. I do not blame Lady Darlington or Julia in the least; but I cannot see them without thinking of _him_ – and that, I cannot support!"

"Georgiana, my dear, you are in no state to make such a decision. Lord William may indeed be the very best match for you; I have always liked him very much. But today is not the day on which to make such an important decision – even though, perhaps, it may be the right one. You are not yourself."

"Oh yes, I am very much myself," said Georgiana, gravely. "Yesterday, I was not myself; I was distraught and discomposed. Today I am most certainly myself – or at least that which remains. Something has died within me; an emotion that I shall never again know or feel. I may not be happy, but my mind is clear and rational. Do you believe I am better to remain here, like this? Dwelling on all that has been, and all that might have been? Dwelling on that which is now lost forever? Would you have me live out my life in bitterness, consumed by disappointed dreams? In marrying Lord William, I shall leave this sad episode behind. I shall make new friends in Hampshire, and strive to make him a good wife. At least I shall have something to aspire to, something to occupy my mind… something to stop me thinking about…"

"Then I shall not go to Kympton, Georgiana; I shall stay here with you."

"And do what? Tell Lord William I may not marry him? You know perfectly well that my brother has already sanctioned the match."

"No, that I would never do."

Georgiana sighed deeply. "Then go to Kympton and say what you must say. Leave me here at Pemberley, to say what I must say. I know my own mind; I am no longer a naïve young girl."

* * *

Elizabeth was shown into the sitting room at Kympton, where all the occupants of the house were gathered. She found herself unable to say the harsh words she had intended to Mr Darlington, out of respect for Lady Darlington, who loved her deceiving and undeserving son so excessively. Elizabeth decided that she must wait until they were alone to do justice to his treachery… and her anger.

When the pleasantries were completed, she said, "I come with news from Pemberley; although it will hardly be a very great surprise to any of you." They all looked at her expectantly. "Georgiana is to marry Lord William Beauchamp."

She stared straight at James Darlington as she uttered these words. He looked suddenly grave, and the blood drained from his face. "No!" he said, jumping to his feet, and rushing from the room.

The three ladies sat in stunned silence. Elizabeth felt most uncomfortable. Finally, the countess spoke. "Mrs Darcy, is it possible that Miss Darcy was in the vicinity of the rose garden at Pemberley, yesterday? And did she, perchance, happen to see Mr Darlington and myself there?"

Elizabeth coloured. "Yes, we were there together. We saw the two of you beside the sun dial. You have no idea of how greatly it discomposed Miss Darcy," said Elizabeth accusingly.

"So discomposed, that she has decided to accept Lord William's addresses?" asked Julia.

Elizabeth nodded gravely.

"But is it final? Has she given Lord William her word? Is it really too late?" asked Lady Darlington anxiously.

"Too late?" repeated Elizabeth, confused.

"Has Georgiana positively accepted Lord William's offer of marriage?" demanded Julia.

"She is utterly and irrevocably determined to marry him," said Elizabeth.

"But she has _not yet_ given him her promise?" asked Lady Darlington, urgently.

"No, he comes to Pemberley this morning, and Georgiana is resolved to accept him."

The countess jumped to her feet. "She must not! Have you come in your carriage?"

"Yes, of course," replied Elizabeth, becoming increasingly bewildered.

"Then you must return to Pemberley, immediately! And I must accompany you! I must speak with Georgiana!" said the countess imploringly, as she attempted to pull Elizabeth to her feet.

Elizabeth was stunned. Lady Darlington and Julia had also risen to their feet, and together with the countess, hurried Elizabeth from the house.

"I shall explain everything to you in the carriage, Mrs Darcy," said the countess.

* * *

As they alighted from the carriage they saw a gentleman approaching the main entrance. It was Lord William. Upon seeing them, he stopped and came towards them.

"You must detain him," whispered the countess to Elizabeth, "while I speak with Georgiana."

Elizabeth nodded. After they had made their formal greetings, Elizabeth said, "Lord William, I must apologise on behalf of Miss Darcy. She was a little indisposed this morning, and I fear that she is not yet ready to receive you. Would you care to take some air with me?"

"It would be my great pleasure, Mrs Darcy," he said without suspicion.

The butler showed the countess into the morning room, where Georgiana sat stiffly in her chair, awaiting Lord William. Upon seeing the countess, she rose, ashen-faced, to her feet and without troubling with the usual pleasantries, said angrily, "How dare you enter this house! Please leave immediately; and do not return, so long as it remains my home. I never wish to see you again!"

"I am here at the express invitation of Mrs Darcy," replied the countess, resolutely. "There is something I must tell you; something that your sister wishes you to hear – something that you _must_ hear!"

"Please leave me!" cried Georgiana, glaring at the French woman. "There is nothing you can have to say that I should ever wish to hear."

"You are angry with me, because you saw Mr Darlington and me together in the rose garden yesterday."

"Yes! I saw you! Why have you come? To taunt me? To thrust your dagger deeper into my heart and twist it?"

"No. I have come to tell you that Mr Darlington and I are not lovers; that we have never been lovers."

"How do you expect me to believe such brazen lies, when yesterday I saw you two standing together by the sun dial, holding hands, and gazing into each other's eyes like the most devoted of lovers? There is no other explanation."

"Yes, there is! What you and Mrs Darcy saw yesterday was an act; a charade; a sham."

"An act? I do not believe you, madam! You must think me some kind of silly, naïve, girl, who is gullible enough to believe such preposterous falsehoods. Or, perhaps, you believe me to be so besotted with Mr Darlington that I will grasp at any straw that might allow me to again be deceived by that insincere rogue? You are wasting your renowned acting abilities on me, madam, for I am no longer an innocent… I am no longer deceived by that scoundrel."

"Let me ask you, Miss Darcy: how can you be certain that what you witnessed yesterday, from quite a distance, was real, and not an act?"

"Because I had already seen enough of you and Mr Darlington in each other's company, both in London and here in Derbyshire, to suspect that you have long been lovers. Of course, I tried to persuade myself that it was not so; to delude myself into believing that it was all my own imagination. But there was nothing imaginary about what I saw yesterday."

"You are quite mistaken in the matter, Miss Darcy. What you saw yesterday, was an act, a performance, intended to create the illusion of a liaison between Mr Darlington and myself."

"You are making not the slightest sense! Why would you and Mr Darlington wish to convince either Mrs Darcy, or myself, that you are lovers, if you were not?" demanded Georgiana.

"The performance was not intended for you and Mrs Darcy."

"Then, for whom was it intended?" demanded Georgiana distrustfully.

"Miss Beauchamp."

"Gwendolyn? But why?"

"Can you not guess? Between her and Lady Beauchamp, poor Mr Darlington has had no peace. Miss Beauchamp is constantly pursuing him. Her mother engages in increasingly transparent hints of her desire for them to marry, and he is too gentle and considerate of them both to rebuff Miss Beauchamp outright. So, I conceived of the plan for her to catch us _en flagrant délit_, and so end all her hopes of receiving Mr Darlington's addresses."

"How can I be sure you are telling the truth? It looked entirely real to both myself and Mrs Darcy."

"I would certainly hope so; I am an actress, after all. But if you cannot trust me, you may ask Julia Darlington, who also played a part in the deception. It was she, who led Miss Beauchamp to the rose garden; although by a different route, and to a different entrance, than that taken by Mrs Darcy and yourself."

Georgiana felt weak at the knees and had to sit down, in the light of this new information, which she realised must be true. Whatever she might have allowed herself to believe of Mr Darlington, Julia would never lie to her. The countess must be telling the truth: it was all _an act_.

"You said, before, that you and Mr Darlington have never been lovers; yet you seem to be very well acquainted."

"But of course. He and my late husband, the Count de Namur were very good friends. My husband was a brilliant composer. He stayed one summer at Darlington Hall before we married. Mr Darlington was later our guest in Namur. Sadly, my husband died three years ago, and with all the recent troubles Bonaparte is making on the continent, I decided to seek refuge in England for a time. Mr Darlington was kind enough to assist me in establishing myself here."

"Sometimes, countess, when I see you look at Mr Darlington, I see an affection which exceeds mere friendship."

The countess sighed. "I shall be honest with you, Miss Darcy, and confide in you something I have spoken of to no one. I have always considered Mr Darlington one of the most exceptional gentlemen of my acquaintance. When I encountered him in London for the first time in several years, I found myself feeling very differently towards him, than previously, when the count was alive. I must admit to being fascinated by him, drawn to him – desiring him. I began imagining how it might be if we were to become lovers, or even perhaps to marry. Though it was a most attractive idea, I could also see difficulties: Naturally, I wish to return to France when peace is restored; whereas he is so very close to his mother and sister that he would not wish to leave England.

"But this was all in my fancy, you understand, Miss Darcy. We women like to indulge in such things. My dreams did not last very long, because I soon realised that I could never win his heart; which I must tell you, was a most unusual experience for me. It soon became apparent to me that his heart belonged entirely to another, and there was absolutely no hope that it could ever be mine. It was quite a puzzle, because I had not the slightest idea of the identity of this extraordinary creature who had captured the most worthy of hearts."

"And have you since discovered it?" asked Georgiana hesitantly.

"Oh yes," replied the countess smiling. "I knew it instantly, the moment Mr Darlington introduced you to me in Lady Basildon's supper room. There was not the slightest doubt in my mind, that the possessor of his heart was you, Miss Darcy."

"Me?" asked Georgiana.

"Yes, of course it was you; and still it is you; and if you will allow me the audacity to speak it: I am certain that he possesses your heart in equal measure. Is it not so?"

"Yes, it is so," replied Georgiana accepting the warm embrace of the countess and crying with joy.

The two ladies found they had much to say, and were presently joined in their delightful conversation by Elizabeth, who had been presumptuous enough to inform Lord William that Miss Darcy, with the greatest of gratitude, had chosen to decline Lady Beaumont's kind invitation to visit Hampshire. Elizabeth had also confidentially counselled the gentleman, that contrary to his mother's hopes and aspirations, it was her belief that there was not the slightest likelihood of his present attentions to Miss Darcy bearing fruit. She gently, but firmly, advised him of the wisdom of looking elsewhere.


	19. A Matter of Honour

_**A Matter of Honour**_

After the countess' departure from Pemberley, Georgiana was in a state of ecstasy. She wondered when she would next see Mr Darlington, and what would then transpire between them. Towards evening, shortly before Mr Darcy's return from the Derby assizes, a servant arrived from Kympton with a message for Georgiana from Julia Darlington, which she read aloud to Elizabeth:

_Dearest Georgiana,_

_I am so pleased that the Countess de Namur was able to enlighten you regarding the ruse which you inadvertently witnessed yesterday. My mother is likewise greatly relieved, and rejoices with me, that you learned the truth of the matter before taking the drastic step which you had contemplated._

_R__egrettably, my brother, James, was not so fortunate as to learn of the satisfactory outcome of the meeting between the countess and yourself. When he heard the news this morning at Kympton from your sister, Elizabeth, he believed that you had accepted Lord William Beauchamp. He understood the engagement to have already taken place, and departed immediately for London, feeling himself unable to remain in Derbyshire. By the time the countess had returned from Pemberley with her wonderful news, my brother was already many miles distant._

_As you may imagine, __I straight away despatched a letter to his London address, informing him of the true state of affairs. I only hope that it reaches him quickly, for I fear that he must presently suffer most grievously._

_Your dear friend,_

_Julia Darlington._

* * *

Georgiana waited anxiously for word from James Darlington. Three days following his departure from Derbyshire, an express from him arrived while she was sitting in the morning room with Elizabeth and her brother, together with Julia Darlington and the Countess de Namur, who had come to wait on them. Georgiana was surprised that the express was addressed to her brother, rather than herself. The four ladies looked at him, and were alarmed at the sombre expression that came upon his face as he read.

"I must go to London immediately," he said with some urgency.

"What is it, my dear? What has happened?" asked Elizabeth, anxiously.

Mr Darcy read from Mr Darlington's letter:

_I have just this __hour heard some most surprising, and disturbing news. It concerns your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It is reported that he is engaged to fight a duel over an insult upon the honour of his future wife, Miss Anne de Bourgh. My informant is not privy to any further particulars; and although the details are sketchy, I believe there to be a high probability of the accuracy of the report._

"Yes, yes, of course you must go immediately, my dear; and if it is not too late, attempt to dissuade your cousin from fighting," pleaded Elizabeth. Then after a moment, she added. "I think I shall come with you, my dear; perhaps he will listen to me."

"I fear we shall not arrive in time to prevent it; although I would be most happy of your company," replied Darcy, ringing for the servant who was immediately despatched to the stables to have the carriage readied for the journey.

"May I come also?" asked Georgiana, greatly anxious for the fate of her beloved cousin.

"Yes, of course, my dear," replied her brother.

"And if there is room in the carriage for a fourth, do I ask too much, to beg that I may be permitted to accompany you?" entreated Julia.

Mr Darcy readily assented to her request, and within the hour the four of them set off for London. They stopped briefly at the first town through which they passed, to enable Mr Darcy to send an express ahead of them. When they were once again on their way, he explained, "I have alerted the housekeeper to our arrival, and instructed her to prepare a guest apartment for Colonel Fitzwilliam. I also sent an express to Mr Darlington, requesting him to bring my cousin to Grosvenor Square, and take all necessary measures, at my expense."

"Such as engaging a physician, should he require one?" asked Elizabeth anxiously.

"Yes, exactly," Darcy replied. "I recommended Stevenson of Harley Street."

Julia gasped and turned pale as she contemplated the import of his words.

In an effort to distract her from such worrying thoughts, Elizabeth said, "I find the whole affair quite bizarre. Anne de Bourgh is the very last woman one would expect to be the object of a duel."

"I have been thinking much the same thing," said Georgiana. "On account of her poor health, my cousin, Anne, never travels to town, and is seldom seen abroad. It is hard to imagine many persons beyond the immediate neighbourhood of Rosings Park, or my aunt's visitors, even being acquainted with her; much less, finding cause to make so offensive a remark in her regard, as might provoke a duel. She is so insipid and reserved; she never speaks to a soul outside of the family circle; it is all quite inexplicable."

"Perhaps Mr Darlington's source had the wrong de Bourgh," suggested Elizabeth. "Perhaps it was your aunt who gave rise to the precipitous insult. She is doubtless a woman well able to give offence."

Darcy snorted. "Yes, my dear; as you know from first-hand experience, my aunt is indeed gifted in the art. I very much doubt, however, that my cousin would risk his life challenging the offended party to withdraw what was, very likely, a well-deserved insult of Lady Catherine. I think a far more likely explanation of the business is that my cousin has been challenged for the hand of Miss de Bourgh by a competing suitor."

"Without wishing to injure Miss de Bourgh," replied Elizabeth, "she is hardly the young lady one would expect young men to fight over. It has taken all of Lady Catherine's considerable powers of persuasion to bring your cousin to the point; and if I recall correctly, they were entirely insufficient to the task in your case," she said, smiling impishly.

"Indeed they were not," reflected her husband fondly. "But I believe there are men who would find Miss de Bourgh's fortune ample motivation for wishing to marry her. Rosings Park, unlike so many great estates, is not entailed upon the male line, and will pass in its entirety to my cousin, Anne, when her mother is deceased. It is one of the finest estates in all of England."

They resolved to drive on through the night, stopping only to change the horses every few hours, and for a brief dinner at an inn. Managing only a fitful sleep, they were rather weary upon arriving in London, late the following morning.

When the housekeeper opened the door, all she could manage, after welcoming her master and mistress, was to announce that Mr Darlington could be found in the morning room. Whatever else the good lady wished to impart to them was lost; for the entire party hastened immediately to find him. As they entered the morning room James Darlington rose from his chair; but before he could speak, his sister Julia was urgently demanding news of Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Is he alive? Is he badly hurt? For God's sake, James, where _is_ he?" she entreated him most passionately.

"Sitting right here," came an amused voice from the occupant of the large wing chair, which stood with its back to them, and facing the chair from which Mr Darlington had just arisen.

Julia rushed to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and dropping to her knees, she embraced him, tears streaming down her face; until, realising the impropriety of her behaviour, she quickly released him, her face turning bright red. Rising to her feet, and taking a backward step, she now regarded him carefully. To her horror, she observed the right sleeve of his jacket hanging empty and lifeless from his shoulder.

"My God!" she cried, falling once more to her knees, her face turning from red to white. "You have lost your arm," she said, clutching at his left hand, miserably.

"Indeed not," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, extricating his hand from hers and throwing open his jacket to reveal his right arm heavily bandaged above the elbow and supported by a sling. "It is merely a flesh wound; the physician assures me that with a little rest, I shall make a complete recovery."

Julia had to resist the impulse of throwing her arms around him again, so happy and relieved was she, to be thus reassured that he was not badly hurt. The formal greetings between the four newcomers and the two gentlemen, which had given way to Julia's impetuous behaviour, were now made; and they all sat down to take refreshments after their long journey.

Georgiana found herself excessively conscious at being in James Darlington's company after all that had passed recently in Derbyshire. Her mind, however, was very soon occupied with the surprising details concerning the duel, which were now revealed. It began with Colonel Fitzwilliam informing Julia that he had something to tell them which was bound to dampen her present good spirits, and that would cause her unhappiness. "My opponent was not so fortunate as I," he told them ruefully. "My intention was only to force him to the point of surrender, and oblige him to withdraw his odious remarks. Regrettably, in endeavouring to defend oneself with the sword, it is not always possible to limit the injury one does to one's opponent. Accidentally, I inflicted a mortal wound upon him," he said lowering his head sorrowfully.

"Now look here, Fitzwilliam," said his cousin. "You can hardly blame yourself for such an accident. He was a fool to agree to fight a swordsman of your reputation in the first place. And if you were prepared to accept the withdrawal of the offending remark as satisfaction enough, then it was entirely his own fault, if he chose to persevere."

"Indeed, I was prepared to forgo the satisfaction of a duel, if he would but retract the insult. I was most surprised that he chose not to do so."

"But, who was the gentleman you fought with?" asked Elizabeth. "Was it anyone we know?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked exceedingly uncomfortable, and was unable to answer her question. At length he said, "For heaven's sake Darlington, tell them – for I cannot."

All eyes turned to James Darlington. He rose from his chair, and approaching the couch, where sat his sister, he went down on his knees and took her hands in his. "My dear Julia," he said sombrely, "his opponent was our brother, Edwin."

"No!" gasped Julia. "Edwin dead? No!" she cried, tearfully.

"But, Mr Darlington, this makes not the slightest bit of sense," said Elizabeth. "Why would your brother Edwin insult Miss Anne de Bourgh? He can hardly know her. What is she to him, that would cause him to do such a thing?"

"It was not Miss de Bourgh whom he insulted," replied James Darlington. "Yes, I know, in my express, I stated that the duel concerned Colonel Fitzwilliam's future wife, Miss de Bourgh. My informant, it transpired, was not entirely correct; and unfortunately, I made a wrong assumption, thereby further compounding the misinformation. It was not Miss de Bourgh who was the subject of the insult."

"And neither am I engaged to my cousin," added the colonel.

"You are not engaged to Anne de Bourgh?" exclaimed Julia, so startled that she stopped crying. "But there were several reports to the effect that the matter was entirely settled, and an engagement was certain, if not yet fact."

"No doubt rumours put about by my good aunt, in the belief that if all the world believed me to be engaged to marry her daughter, Anne, that I, too, must believe it," said the colonel smiling.

"But… then to whom are you betrothed?" asked Julia.

"I am not presently betrothed to anyone."

"Then who is the lady whose honour you were defending?" asked Julia, perplexed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked away from Julia and remained silent. Finally, James Darlington spoke. "My informant was only slightly in error: he told me that a gentleman had insulted the woman that Colonel Fitzwilliam wished to marry, and I naturally assumed he must be referring to Miss de Bourgh."

"But then _who_ is the lady," demanded Julia of her brother, who looked towards Colonel Fitzwilliam with raised eyebrows.

Finally, the colonel spoke. "I encountered your brother, Miss Darlington, several nights ago at his club; where I happened to be dining at the invitation of a friend. I understand that in recent years, he has gone there but little. Indeed, he is rarely in town, since the loss of his character. He was come to London, I understand, in order to make preparations for his forthcoming marriage to Miss Caroline Bingley. It seems that he decided to dine at his old club, though most of his former acquaintance there refuse even to acknowledge him. Probably, he had been drinking to excess. Upon recognising me, he arose and, somewhat unsteadily, approached the table at which I was dining, where he delivered his insult."

"But against whom was the insult made?" asked Julia.

Since the colonel again declined to name the lady, Mr Darlington spoke. "It was not the lady to whom the colonel was engaged to be married, for of course there is no such lady. It was the lady whom he had wished to marry."

Julia turned and looked enquiringly at the colonel.

"There is only one lady I have ever wished to marry," said the colonel, staring at the floor.

"Oh!" exclaimed Julia. Then a moment later she asked, "But… why would my brother Edwin have insulted _me?_"

"Because you refused to marry him, I imagine," said Elizabeth. "And very probably, he still wished to marry you, despite knowing that his suit was hopeless, and having settled for Miss Bingley."

"Yes," added the colonel, "it seemed very much that way to me. With his impending marriage to Miss Bingley, I imagine that the disappointed hopes of what might have been were prominent in his mind; and of course, when he recognised me, he recalled that though you refused him, you were on the point of accepting my addresses."

"Yes," said Elizabeth, "that is very likely what provoked the insult."

"It is quite certain," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "for he began haranguing me about it: asserting that it was I, who came between the two of you, and that, were it not for me, you would have accepted him."

"_Never!_" exclaimed Julia. "I will not call it a lie, for perhaps he allowed himself to believe it. I would never have accepted him – under any circumstance."

"Your brother began to gloat, and crow about how he had taken his revenge upon us both, by thwarting our marriage. I became so angry, that I immediately apologised to my host, and rose to leave the club; for I could tolerate his behaviour no longer."

"But, then how did the duel come about?" asked Georgiana.

Elizabeth now realised why Colonel Fitzwilliam had earlier wished to avoid naming Julia as the object of the duel. He did not wish to disclose her brother's insult for fear of hurting her.

"He hurled an insult at my back as I was leaving. It was a most scurrilous lie, and he spoke it so loudly that all the dining hall heard it. I could not allow such a scandalous perjury to be made publicly, and demanded that he withdraw it immediately – or give me satisfaction with his sword. He readily accepted the latter, and when we met two mornings later, I again asked him if he would publicly withdraw his falsehood – rather than fight. He insinuated that my offer was borne of cowardice, and refused to withdraw."

"What did he say of me?" asked Julia, anxiously.

"I shall never repeat it," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It was a total fabrication, and utterly unworthy of ever being uttered again."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," said Julia sternly, "I have a right to know what has been said against me publicly."

But the colonel remained steadfast in refusing to speak it.

Elizabeth turned to James Darlington. "Mr Darlington, your sister is entirely correct; it is her right to know – and your duty, as a brother, to tell her what the colonel is too noble and kind-hearted to reveal."

Mr Darlington looked questioningly at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who shook his head. "You must all know that because the colonel so bravely challenged the slanderer, and defeated him, that his lies are now publicly repudiated."

"Yes, that may be so, by the agreed rules of gentlemanly chivalry; but still you must tell her," insisted Georgiana, adding her voice to those of the other ladies. "If she does not know, then she will very likely imagine something even worse than what was actually spoken. No matter how terrible and great a lie it may be, it can in no way reflect upon your sister – only upon the one who uttered it."

"I am sorry, colonel," said James Darlington, "but, I must agree with the ladies: my sister has the right to know what slander has been said about her; and if you will not speak it, then I fear I must." Turning resignedly towards Julia, he said gently, "Edwin's aspersion was with regard to the fact that when we were made destitute some years ago, you came to London and, for a time, were forced to seek employment."

"What? Only that?" asked Julia in surprise. "Although people are kind enough not to speak of it now, and dismiss it as nothing of the least import, it was already known to a great many in society. Where is the insult in that? I do not understand."

James Darlington sighed. "Edwin asserted, most explicitly, that the manner in which you earned money was not solely as a teacher of music, but also… in the most dishonourable way imaginable, for a woman."

The ladies all gasped in unison. "What a despicable thing to say of any lady – let alone his own sister!" exclaimed Elizabeth angrily.

"Indeed it is," agreed Georgiana. "But the whole world already knows how disgracefully and dishonourably he acted against his own mother, sister, and brother. He has already, by his own actions, condemned himself as the most disreputable of scoundrels. My dear Julia, no rational person can believe a word of it; your reputation and honour remain untarnished."

"Thank you," said Julia, "I know you are correct; but it is not my reputation that concerns me, or for which I grieve. It is for my brother, Edwin, whom once I loved, that I grieve; for that beloved companion of my childhood, who was lost to me so many years ago. I have grieved a long time for him; and yet, that it should come to this – that he could have spoken such cruel and wicked lies about me… And now he is dead, and there is no longer hope for him…" Julia began sobbing into her hands. Elizabeth and Georgiana sat themselves on each side of her to give what comfort they might.

"Miss Darlington, I hope, in time, you shall be able to forgive me for what I have done," said Colonel Fitzwilliam earnestly. "Please believe me, that it was not my intention to kill your brother – only to force him to withdraw his wretched lies."

Julia looked up through her tears and smiled at him. "You have nothing for which to beg my forgiveness, sir. You have acted entirely honourably. And although I wish, with all my heart, that my brother Edwin were still alive, as imperfect as he was, I do not blame you in the least for what has happened. I think I must express my gratitude, that you would defend my honour with your life. I am greatly in you debt, sir."

The colonel's face glowed, and he smiled at her with the deepest affection.

"Fitzwilliam, when will you be well enough to travel, do you think?" asked Darcy.

"I am ready now – to travel by carriage at least. It may be some time before I am again ready to be mounted."

"Then, I think we should return with you to Pemberley, where you may recover at your ease," said Darcy. "We shall depart tomorrow morning, if you are up to it, and make an easy journey of it."

"That is very kind of you, Darcy," replied his cousin, "I most happily accept your invitation."

James Darlington rose to his feet. "If you will all excuse me, I have the rather sad business of making the arrangements for my brother Edwin's funeral."

"James, I shall remain here, to assist you," offered Julia.

"No, dear Julia," her brother replied, shaking his head. "You must return to Derbyshire, and give the sad news to our mother, and comfort her. She will be most distraught. I shall take Edwin back to Cheshire, to be buried in the graveyard at Middlewich, beside our father. When the arrangements are made, I shall send an express with the date and time of the funeral, so that you and mother may join me." Taking an envelope from his jacket pocket, he handed it to Julia. "When our mother is somewhat recovered from the dreadful news, please hand her this letter."


	20. Two Weddings and a Funeral

_**Two Weddings and a Funeral**_

On a sunny day in April, James Darlington, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood silently beneath the noonday sun, while the remains of Edwin Darlington were lowered into the earth, beside his father. The small country graveyard was the final resting place of generations of Darlingtons. Were it not a graveyard, and such a sombre occasion, one might have felt delight at the picturesque scene of a handsome stone church standing atop a small hill. The ancient stone walls of the graveyard gave way to fertile green fields, which seemed to breathe the very hope of life on the lovely spring day.

* * *

Lady Darlington and Julia had travelled that morning from Pemberley, accompanied by Mr and Mrs Darcy, Georgiana Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. As was the custom, the ladies had earlier farewelled Edwin from Darlington Hall, where they awaited the return of the gentlemen. Re-entering Darlington Hall after an absence of almost two and a half years had indeed been a poignant moment for Lady Darlington and Julia. Despite the sombreness of the circumstances, the servants could not conceal their joy at receiving her ladyship and the young Miss into their former home. James Darlington had arrived with his brother's body the previous evening, and had passed the night there. His arrangements for the luncheon unfortunately fell short of what Lady Darlington felt was due to their guests, and she very soon had matters arranged to her complete satisfaction.

After the meal, Mr Darlington excused himself, as he had business with the solicitor in the library. He was accompanied by Mr Darcy, who, as a magistrate, had agreed to witness the signing of some documents. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Julia Darlington decided to take advantage of the lovely spring weather and take a turn in the garden. He offered her his left arm, as the right one remained in a sling. Elizabeth could not help but observe how well they looked together.

Lady Darlington enquired whether Elizabeth and Georgiana would care to take a tour of the hall; to which they gladly acceded. "I understand," said Lady Darlington, "that most of the hall was sheeted, and has lain closed since our departure. It is an enormous place, and far too large for just one inhabitant. The housekeeper tells me that since Edwin was intending to bring his bride to the hall, he had all the rooms opened up; so I have hopes of finding everything in good order."

The quality and beauty of the rooms, the furnishings, and the artwork were a reflection on the exquisite taste of Lady Darlington. The exceptional standard of all she saw, gave Elizabeth pause to reflect that there was yet something further to aspire to at Pemberley. Both she and Georgiana were lavish in their praise of all they beheld; and her ladyship was visibly gratified at their admiration.

Lady Darlington was eager to view the picture gallery, where she feared Edwin may have removed James' paintings. She was greatly relieved to discover after a quick survey that he had not done so. "My late husband, Lord Darlington, painted by our son, James," she said, standing in front of a large portrait of a handsome, benevolent-looking gentleman. She fell silent, and Elizabeth and Georgiana stood quietly beside her as she looked lovingly at the portrait. Then brushing aside a tear, she said, "And now we have a new Lord Darlington."

"What becomes of the estate, your ladyship?" asked Elizabeth.

"Since Edwin had no heir," replied Lady Darlington, "both the title and the estate, in its entirety, now belong to my son, James," she said with evident complaisance.

Georgiana laughed. "Oh dear, we shall have to call him Lord Darlington, now."

"I expect that you may be allowed a slight abbreviation, my dear," said Lady Darlington, smiling mischievously.

Georgiana blushed and Elizabeth laughed. Both ladies understood the abbreviation she alluded to, must be _darling_, with all that was implied.

"I suppose with Darlington Hall now belonging to your son, you will be anxious to return here, to your former home – and we must lose our dearest neighbours," said Elizabeth regretfully.

Lady Darlington smiled. "I shall never forget your warmth and hospitality, or your great generosity in our time of need, my dear Elizabeth; but naturally, I wish to return to my beloved Darlington Hall. However, as you will have seen from this morning's journey, we are but a few hours from Pemberley, and I am certain that there must always be the greatest intimacy between Pemberley and Darlington Hall," she said with a smile as her eyes moved meaningfully from Elizabeth to Georgiana.

"But what of Julia, if I may be so forthright as to allude to future possibilities that might take her from you?" asked Elizabeth.

Lady Darlington smiled. "You may be as forthright as you wish, my dear, for indeed, an understanding developed between Julia and Colonel Fitzwilliam upon his removal to Pemberley. It was only out of respect for poor Edwin that they chose to withhold their happy news until after he was laid to rest."

Much congratulation and expression of delight followed from both young ladies at the positive confirmation of what was already much suspected.

"The business, in which my son James is presently engaged with the solicitor, is the execution of the wish of his late father, to settle a substantial fortune upon Julia. When you returned from London, a week ago, Julia had in her possession a letter from James, stating his intention of carrying out his father's fond wish for his daughter. As soon as I communicated the news to Julia, her understanding with Colonel Fitzwilliam was very soon fixed. I am exceedingly happy for them both."

"Oh yes," said Elizabeth. "Love, such as theirs, which has withstood both the test of time and seeming hopelessness – not to mention the persistent and outright opposition of his aunt – cannot but produce the greatest happiness. Nevertheless, you must feel some regret in losing so beloved a daughter, your ladyship?"

"No, not at all; on the contrary, I very much hope to gain another beloved daughter," said Lady Darlington, again looking significantly in Georgiana's direction.

Elizabeth guessed that Lady Darlington had most probably been entirely aware of the love that was blossoming between her son, James, and Georgiana – and very likely for longer than the lovers themselves. She suspected that the letter James Darlington had sent with his sister, from London, very likely alluded to his intention of begging Georgiana to be his wife.

"Do Julia and Colonel Fitzwilliam intend to make their home here, at Darlington Hall?" asked Elizabeth.

"Indeed they do," replied Lady Darlington happily. "In his letter, James expressed the wish that they should live here, at the hall. However, if they preferred, he would offer them the manor house at Winsford; which is part of his estate. Although it is only a few miles distant, I am very pleased that they have chosen to make their home here, at Darlington Hall; which, as you can see, is large enough for several families.

Georgiana's imagination was running away with her by this time, and she had a great desire for a private conversation with James Darlington. As luck would have it, he emerged from the library just as they completed their tour. "Lord Darlington," she said, causing him momentary confusion, for he was not yet accustomed to the appellation.

"Miss Darcy," he said with a smile, "I was very much hoping that you might allow me to give you a personal tour of my beautiful grounds."

"I would be delighted," said Georgiana, taking the proffered arm. They walked for a time in silence, while Georgiana admired the great beauty before her. As they entered a lovely avenue of birch trees, she said, "I was hoping that you might grant me a private conversation, during the course of the day, Mr Darlington."

James Darlington laughed heartily, for young ladies were supposed to wait for the gentleman to make such a suggestion. "I had much the same wish, and was hoping that our present excursion might provide the desired opportunity. However, I beg you to wait just a little, until we reach a particular place I have in mind. I understand that my mother has given you the grand tour of Darlington Hall. May I ask how you like it?"

Georgiana smiled at him. "I like it very much; it is beautiful. And the grounds are delightful. Your mother is so happy and full of joy to be again in her own home."

"Yes, she is. I am so happy for her, but will you mind… err, no, I cannot yet ask you that question; let us walk on a little further."

So they walked on silently, arm in arm, enjoying the lovely day, and feeling a wonderful sense of anticipation. Finally, James Darlington led Georgiana to a beautiful rose garden. It was not on so grand a scale as the one at Pemberley, but it had a delicate beauty about it, that Georgiana greatly admired. They stopped at the centre of the garden, beside an ornamental fountain. Georgiana laughed.

James Darlington turned to face her, and took her hands in his so that they were standing in an identical pose to that he had assumed with the Countess de Namur at Pemberley. "Fear not, no one will come upon us," he said, smiling.

"Did you practice the words you are about to address to me with the countess?" asked Georgiana playfully.

"Indeed not. But I have been practicing them, or at least, imagining myself saying them to you, for a very long time, my dearest Georgiana," he said, becoming suddenly serious. "Since the day that your sister contrived to have me paint you in the conservatory, I have loved you as I have never loved before. When you told me that you had no wish to marry, the desire to make you my wife was planted firmly in my heart, where it has flourished and thrived. It was only my poverty that prevented me from paying you my addresses until this time."

"And I, too, have loved you since that day – although, for a time, I attempted to persuade myself that it was no more than deep friendship. Though I felt such pain, whenever we were apart, and wished to be always in your company, I told myself that I did not wish to marry you. It was not until the Beauchamps came into Derbyshire, and my conversations with Gwendolyn, that I gave serious thought to what it means to be a wife. Then I knew, without the slightest doubt, that I wished to be your wife."

"Are you paying me your addresses, Miss Darcy? Although I am no stickler for social conventions, I always believed it to be the prerogative of the gentleman. But since you are so unconventional a young lady, perhaps I should allow you to finish."

"Yes, you should," said Georgiana, smiling lovingly, and squeezing his hands. "If you recall, I almost came to the point that night in the library at Pemberley, when I told you I had changed my mind about not marrying."

"Indeed, I do recall it. I was amazed in thinking it over afterwards: that had Lord William not happened upon us at that moment, you might very well have informed me that you had decided to marry me."

"Yes, it may well have ended like that; although I had in no way premeditated such a thing – as I do now: James Darlington, I love you, with all my heart, and I wish to be your wife. I cannot live without you."

"I thought you would never come to the point," he said smiling happily. "And yes, with all my heart, I accept you, my dearest, darling Georgiana." And with that, he released her hands, took her in his arms, and they kissed, for a very long time.

Afterwards, Georgiana said, "You took a great liberty in kissing me like that, James, for you do not yet know if my brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who are my joint guardians, will approve of the match."

"They have both approved the match, already. I asked Colonel Fitzwilliam in London, and your brother, this morning," he said with a smile.

"Then you had better kiss me again," said Georgiana, "now that I know it is properly sanctioned."

As they walked back towards the hall, brimming with joy, James Darlington asked, "How will you like sharing Darlington Hall with my mother and sister? I hope that you do not object to the arrangement, for I could not, in my heart, deny my dear mother her own home, or the company of her beloved daughter."

"Oh, James, how could you imagine I would object? I should only have objected had you _not_ begged them to live with us at Darlington Hall. You must know that I love you mother dearly; as much as any daughter could love a mother – and now I shall, in truth, be her daughter. Nothing could make me happier. It is evident that your mother loves to run the establishment at Darlington Hall; and it is my desire that she should continue to do so for as long as she wishes. I shall gradually learn from her. It will suit us both very well, I believe, and will leave me free to pursue my writing. As to your sister, Julia – who shall now also be my sister – and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am overjoyed that they will live with us at Darlington Hall, for I love them both dearly. It will all be entirely perfect!"

_ The End _

* * *

_And so we reach the happy ending_

_If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment_

_It might encourage me to write another! _


End file.
